Tok'ra Hunt
by Nanari
Summary: Stargate Sg1, Supernatural crossover. Tells the story of a young Tok'ra who wants to see Earth, and hitches a ride with our boys to do so. Can Sam and Dean deal with an eager alien tagging along? Or will it all end in disaster? Rating for language,torture
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: The italicized words are thoughts, those within the slashes are the thoughts of the Tok'ra symbiote. This story takes place sometime in season two of Supernatural, and somewhere in season 7 or 8 of Stargate Sg-1. A basic familiarity with both shows is good to have. Hope you enjoy! (Let me know if the formatting works.)

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**Prologue:**

"This is going to be wonderful." _//Calm down, Sarai, you're behaving like a young child, and we want to make a good impression on our allies.// You're right, R'kenoth, sorry. They need to see that I'm mature enough for this//Do you want me to do the talking?// Yes, I think you'd better. _

The young woman dipped her head, and when she faced the group again, her eyes glowed for an instant before settling into a normal appearance. "Please excuse Sarai's exuberance. She is looking forward to a multitude of new experiences. As am I, truth be told. Although I am only of middle age for a Tok'ra, I have seen many cultures, and am anxious to learn more about the Tau'ri, of whom we do not have much knowledge."

"That's something we're glad to hear, R'kenoth. When we first came up with the idea for this exchange program, we weren't sure the Tok'ra would think Earth culture a worthy subject of study." General Hammond relaxed slightly in his chair at the head of the briefing room table. "Unfortunately our past experiences with the Tok'ra have not all been as beneficial as we would have liked."

"Once I convinced Anise of the value of learning more about 'primitive' cultures in order to help them develop apart from Goa'uld interference…" Daniel began.

Sam interrupted, "And we're very glad they decided to send you and Sarai as the first participants."

"Over the next few days, SG-1 has been assigned to take you around Colorado Springs and let you observe this corner of the United States, and then next week you'll be taking a short trip with Colonel O'Neill up to Denver to observe our political process at the state level." General Hammond proceeded to explain the itinerary, as the interplanetary exchange student listened with the full focus of host and symbiote attention.

**Chapter One:**

**_Gas Station off I-25, somewhere in Colorado:_**

A black Impala pulled up to the pump, and a young man in leather jacket got out of the car, bending over to say something to the figure in the passenger seat before heading into the convenience store. The man was of average height, strongly built with features that told of heartbroken women left behind. Currently, his full lips were twisted into a smirk, which widened into a grin as he caught sight of a fellow traveler stopped for gas. He only had a moment to stare at the young woman standing outside a black SUV since his mission, unfortunately, was to get gas and keep moving, not to pick up cute chicks. He gave the brunette a quick nod as he passed, before entering the store.

His brother, left to sit in the well-kept classic car, had followed Dean's progress and took notice of his brother's distraction. Sam sighed. The oldest Winchester brother was absolutely incorrigible when it came to women. _C'mon, man! She's with somebody!_ Sam had observed the black SUV as they pulled in, and had noticed an older man talking to the woman before going inside to pay for gas. The silver-haired man was emerging from the store even as Dean went inside, and went over to begin filling up his gas guzzling vehicle. _Even if he is old enough to be her father, and for all we know he might be!_

Sam glanced around the area out of boredom, since the hottie Dean had spotted had moved out of sight. Besides the Impala and SUV there was only one other car getting fuel, a nondescript pick-up truck with a fading coat of red paint. The owner was no where to be seen, and Sam absently noted that he hadn't seen the man go into the store, and must've already been inside when they pulled in. _Dude, how long does it take to pay for gas, come on!_

They had noticed a number of strange weather patterns centered on Colorado Springs over the last ten years, and had decided to investigate, since one of the signs which heralded the presence of the demon responsible for their mother's death was unusual storms. They hadn't had any other leads in months, and although it was a long shot, it was all they had to go on. Not to mention there were always one or two haunted houses they could clean in any given city. Sam's stomach growled. _That's it, _he thought, _Dean's taking too long. I've gotta get a Snickers or something._ Just as he unbuckled his seat belt, the unmistakable sound of a gun shot rang out, and Sam leapt out of the car in time to see the pretty young woman he and Dean had observed fall to the ground as she opened the door of the convenience store.

_**Fifteen minutes earlier:**_

A black SUV pulled into the gas station, stopping next to a pump. "O'Neill, I don't understand why we're stopping? I thought we wanted to get to Denver early so you could show me around before the meeting?"

"Sarai?" She nodded, "Call me Jack, and good work on the "I" thing. And yes, we will get there early, but I have to fill up, refuel, the truck." Jack unbuckled his seat belt, and mentally congratulated himself on his brilliant excuse for not having to wear his Class A's all day. Getting there early enough to sight see meant getting there with enough time to take a shower and change. "These things are great for impressive looking rescue ops, but man! I'm just glad the SGC is paying for gas and not me." He got out of the truck, and Sarai followed suit. "Just stay here, I have to go in and pay. Don't touch anything, just – observe."

Sarai followed his instructions, but she complained to R'kenoth. _Reken, I want to see _everything_ on Earth! Why won't he let me come inside?// Sarai, you're sounding like a child again. I think there will plenty of other opportunities to see the inside of these fueling stations, we've passed many of them this week.// True. And this way I can get a closer look at the different types of vehicles they use. _Sarai looked around, and caught the eye of a man walking past, who smiled at her and dipped his head. _Well, at least some Tau'ri are polite. I'm glad Arnoast was wrong about the normal ones being rude and violent. __ //Arnoast is just a sour old Tok'ra who's lived in his little hole too long. The Tau'ri are people, and come in all varieties.// _

Sarai wasn't listening, for she had caught sight of a beautiful, sleek, shiny black transport sitting by a gas pump across from them. _Oh R'kenoth. She's _beautifulSarai breathed. _If we ever get a transport vehicle of our own while we're here, we have to get one like that. Even the High Counsel would have to admit no ship looks better! _R'kenoth let out a dry chuckle._ //I'm afraid you may be on your own in your love for these primitive transports, Sarai. It still uses the wheel! But I admit, there is something aesthetically pleasing about that one. Although the man inside it staring at us is a bit disconcerting…//_

Before Sarai could launch into further raptures about the car, Jack returned, and began filling up the SUV. "Ah, Sarai, I'll be right back, okay?"

"What are you doing now?"

"Call of nature. Won't take more than a minute or two. And keep an eye on the pump."

"Call of nature? What-" //_It's a human euphemism for when they need to urinate or otherwise dispose of their bodily waste.// _R'kenoth explained. _Oh. _Sarai leaned back against the truck. _R'kenoth, how do I 'keep an eye on the pump'?_ But this even the Tok'ra could not decipher. They had had only a limited time to prepare for this mission, and there were many, many human euphemisms and colloquialisms to learn that the Stargate could not aid in translating, only a few of which R'kenoth had time to study_ //I sorry, Sarai, I do not recall the meaning of that phrase.// I suppose we can go ask him. _Sarai suggested. Receiving the assent from R'kenoth, Sarai left the car and walked toward the glass doors which lead into the building. If Sarai had been a human, what happened next may not have occurred. Then again, if she had been human, she would not have had to find and ask O'Neill to explain himself. For most humans know that gas station bathrooms are often on the outside of the building, not inside, and Sarai would not have caught the attention of the unstable man in the process of robbing the clerk as she opened the front door. The gun, pointed at the clerk, was suddenly aimed at her and a loud "crack" filled her ears. Pain blossomed in her stomach, and Sarai found herself on the ground, bleeding from a bullet wound in her middle.

The would-be robber stared at her for a split second, stunned at what he had done. It wasn't supposed to go down like this! He would just wave the gun around, get the money, and leave! He didn't have a choice, he needed the money, he had to get his fix! It wasn't his fault! She shouldn't have opened the door!

It had all gone wrong from the start. He was just getting gas when the call came, and he found out he had to get another $100 before they'd sell him more crack! He had a gun, and there was a store with money right there! He'd gone in, lurked in the back for awhile, and had just stepped up to make his demands when a man in a leather jacket had entered. The man had picked up a few snacks, and got out his wallet to pay for them when he'd seen his chance and stuck the gun to the back of the guy's head. "PUT THE WALLET ON THE COUNTER, NOW!" he grabbed the clerk's collar and pulled him close at the same time, preventing him from hitting the alarm. "I WANT EVERYTHING IN THE CASH REGISTER! DO IT OR HE'S DEAD!"

The man in the leather jacket had tried talking to him, but Robbie wasn't listening. He was sweating, and the gun was shaking, but all he could think about was the few bills in front of him. The clerk stuttered and apologized, saying it had been a slow day, and he didn't have access to anymore, and please don't shoot, Oh God, please, and… the bell on the door jingled and Robbie reacted without thinking, moving the gun from the man's head to point at the sound. Somehow the gun went off, but Robbie didn't remember pulling the trigger.

The clerk ducked down behind the counter and the man in leather leapt towards him. Robbie fired wildly, grabbed as many bills as he could and ran for his truck, firing a few more times behind him to discourage pursuit. He could feel wetness on his face, but he wasn't sure if it was sweat or tears. It didn't matter. He had the money. He would go get high, and he would forget all about the girl, forget about everything. Escape.

"No!" He had done his best to talk the guy down, but it had been hopeless the moment Dean recognized the signs of drug addiction. It was pretty obvious, since only a psycho or a junkie would try to rob a gas station in the middle of the day. Dean dropped to the floor as the thief fired at him. The bullet grazed his shoulder, but it wasn't bad. The girl, however, had taken her shot full on. A few more bullets whizzed by over head as the desperate robber had fire back wildly, but as soon as it stopped Dean jumped up and ran outside to where the girl lay curled up on the pavement, lying in a growing puddle of her own blood.

Sam ran up, gun in hand, as Dean knelt by the injured woman. "Dean, are you okay? I saw the shooter, but he got in his truck and drove off before I could do anything."

"Yeah, I'm fine. But she's not. Took a shot nearly at point blank range."

"Sarai, Rekenoth!" The silver haired man Sam had seen earlier ran over to them, a Beretta held comfortably in his hand. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Air Force, who the hell are you." He demanded tersely.

Dean sat back on his knees, hands raised in surrender. "Just concerned bystanders, sir. We saw your friend get shot and wanted to try and help."

Jack looked at the boys, and made a split second decision. "Fine. Stay here with her, try and staunch the bleeding, but don't call 9-1-1. I'll give my people a call." He ran to the SUV, quickly pulling out the gas pump and closing the tank cover. Jumping into the driver's seat, he gunned the engine and the SUV peeled out of the gas station in pursuit if the shooter, who Jack had glimpsed as he ran around the corner from the bathroom.

"What?" Dean asked, completely confused as to what had just happened. "Screw that, she just got shot!" He exclaimed, disregarding the man's orders. "Sammy, call 9-1-1."

"Already on it." And indeed, even as Jack had jumped into his truck, Sam had pulled out and dialed his cell phone.


	2. Chapter 1, Part 2

And, here it is, the continuation of the previous chapter. (I'm gonna try to stay away from shippiness, but it's hard, both brothers are too dang cute!!) Tell me whatcha think!

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The paramedics had been called, and the Winchester brothers found themselves in charge, for the time being of a seriously injured young woman they didn't know. A strange young woman in more ways than one as they discovered when they tried talking to her. 

"Hey, hang in, okay? Help's on the way." Sam soothed, crouching down near her head. "What's your name?"

The woman was breathing hard, pain making her clench her teeth. "Please…don't talk to me…" She managed.

Dean smirked at Sam, finally someone who didn't melt under his little brother's "Captain Empathy" display. "Well, I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam. And trust me; you really can't _stop_ him from talking. I suggest you do what I do and just tune it out." Sam made a face at Dean, but it was only out of habit, as his attention was still on the girl. She looked about 18 or 19, just a few years younger then the brothers, wearing nondescript clothing. It was pure chance that she had gotten shot. It easily could've been someone else, like his brother!

"I am R'kenoth. I apologize for being rude but it is hard to speak with a stomach wound." Prepared for another terse answer, the boys were surprised by the reply, especially considering that Sam's first request for a name had been completely rebuffed and ignored.

"Um…." Dean said.

"That's …..a nice name." Managed Sam. While making "WTF?" faces at his brother over the girl's crumpled form.

"What is it, Greek?" Dean asked, trying to keep her talking and distracted from the pain. She was still curled up, and though he had rolled up his jacket and put it underneath her head, and Sam had donated his sweatshirt to staunch the bleeding from the exit wound on her back, they couldn't do much for the injury itself. _Damnit! _Dean hated feeling helpless.

"'Greek'?" Mouthed Sam in disbelief.

"I don't know!" Dean whispered back, "It was the first thing that came to mind!"

Sam tried to think of what language the name might be from to show up Dean, but he was drawing a blank. What kind of a name _was_ "Rekenoth" anyway? Reh-ken-oth. Talk about strange.

They were spared from further attempts at conversation by the arrival of an ambulance, followed closely by a cop car. "Dean, stay with her, I'll take care of the cops." Sam said quickly. With Dean's history, the last thing they needed was scrutiny by the police department of Colorado.

The paramedics approached the wounded girl and Dean stepped back, telling them what he knew of her condition. "She was conscious a second ago!" He protested, when the EMT informed him she had passed out into a comatose state. He looked on, helpless and frustrated, as they prepared to strap her to a stretcher and take her to the ambulance. Fighting evil was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with the aftermath of human cruelty and greed.

Sam gave his statement to the police, using a false name of course, and introducing Dean as his cousin Steve.

"Hi there." Dean smiled, at his most charming. Just as he shook the officer's hand, and prepared to tell what he saw happen, a pair of black SUVs pulled into the gas station with a squeal of breaks.

"U.S. Air Force, we're taking control of this investigation." A blonde woman with short hair jumped out of the driver's side on the lead vehicle, and addressed the officers the boys were talking to.

"Excuse me?" Responded the lead police officer in confusion. "You don't have jurisdiction here, this is just a gas station robbery."

"It involves matters of national security, I'm afraid." The Air Force officer led the police away to continue their conversation, but the Winchester brothers had heard plenty already.

"Sam, did I miss something here? A guy tries to rob a gas station and a girl gets shot. Were there terrorists here too and I just didn't see 'em?"

"I dunno, Dean. Maybe the girl's somebody important…" They turned and looked. Sure enough, there were two men from the government SUVs crouched over the injured young woman, a large black man in a stocking cap and an average looking guy with glasses. They were instructing the paramedics to leave her alone, and despite protestations, the EMTs did as they were told, packing up their gear. The Air Force men assured them they had the appropriate resources and training.

"Hey! What're you doing?" Dean demanded, stalking over to them. "That girl just got shot, and you're sending the paramedics away?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "These guys are with the Feds, stay out of it!"

The black man stood up, his massive frame making Dean appear even smaller than he usually did next to Sam. "Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. We will take proper care of her." He said impassively.

Dean lost some of his bluster in the face of such a solid obstacle, but made one last try. "The dude she was with left in our care, how do we know you're with him?"

"O'Neill was perceptive in evaluating your character, but your services are no longer required. You may continue your journey." He added, with a significant glance at the only car left at the gas station not belonging to the police or the Air Force.

"Yeah, we were just leaving. Tell your friend we're sorry and we hope she gets better soon." Sam jumped in, before Dean could say anything else. With a quick glance back at the figure of the girl on the ground, they headed back to their car.

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SG-1 had gotten a phone call from Jack regarding their Tok'ra "exchange student" and had broken all speed limits in their haste to reach the scene before local authorities, since it was imperative that they prevent Sara (and R'kenoth) from falling into the hands of ordinary doctors. Luckily, Jack had not gotten very far away from the USAF Academy where SG-1 had been attending a meeting with some of the instructors.

On arriving, Daniel had immediately gone to Sarai and dealt with the paramedics. "Sarai, R'kenoth, can you hear me?" The medics had said she was nonresponsive, but Daniel suspected it might just be the Tok'ra was following the emergency procedure they had worked out, and was lying low.

"Yes, Dr. Jackson."

His suspicions confirmed, he heaved a sigh of relief. "What happened, how bad is the injury."

"A bullet hit us in the mid-section, close range so it passed right through. It missed many of the vital organs, but caused significant tissue damage. I'm doing what I can, but it will take me several days to repair the damage. Blood loss is heavy, but not yet a primary issue."

"Okay. We have some medical supplies with us, but we're going to take you to the base infirmary for now."

R'kenoth nodded weakly in assent. "I believe we can stand with assistance. Sarai is frightened and in pain, so she is letting me take control for the time being. She has not endured as many wounds as I have."

Daniel smiled grimly. He knew precisely what the Tok'ra meant. "Teal'c!" He called; noting that the jaffa had finished speaking with the two witnesses of the shooting, the two men Jack had trusted enough to leave them with Sarai. Daniel made a mental note to check up on them. _That black car is pretty distinctive...license number KAZ 2Y5..._ "Help me get her to the truck."

As Teal'c and Daniel helped her to her feet, Sarai muttered something to Daniel before letting Rekenoth take control again. "Pretty car…" _//And they weren't bad looking either…//_

Dean dropped into the driver's seat, rather pissed. "They have no right to just _dismiss_ us like that! We were trying to help, and we barely get a thank you!"

Sam stared out the window at the continuing activity around the wounded girl.

"But fine, if they don't want our help, we might as well leave. It's not like this has anything to do with us anyway."

"Dude, not everything has to be our business. Do you seriously want that chick to be possessed or something just so we'll have an excuse to get involved?" Sam asked.

"What? Nah, man, I'm just saying—" Both brothers were watching the proceedings, but Dean forgot what he was saying when he saw it, wondering for a minute if it was just his imagination or a trick of the light.

It was Sam who spoke first. "Did you--?"

"Yup."

"Guess this is our business after all."


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks for your reviews!

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**Chapter Two:**

The moment Sam saw the girl's eyes flash; he felt a thrill of adrenaline race through him. A half-second glance at Dean confirmed his brother's own anticipation of the hunt.

"Possession?"

"Could be, but if so, it's laying low. Pretty unusual for a demon."

"She was acting pretty strange. Shape shifter?"

"Only one way to find out, let's go."

The shiny black Chevy Impala pulled out some distance behind the two Government Issue black SUVs, and the hunt was on. This wasn't the first quarry they'd followed in a car, so Dean made certain to leave plenty of room between the pursuers and the pursuees. The last thing they needed was trouble with the Air Force.

The government vehicles led them to Peterson Air Force Base, where the lead car stopped, and the blonde woman, evidently the woman in charge of the operation, got out in order to have an argument with whoever was on the other end of the cell phone call.

Watching from up the road, Sam and Dean took turns with binoculars to observe the action. "Man, she is _pissed_ about something." Dean commented.

"What on earth can it be waiting for?" Sam mused out loud. "It went with them docilely enough, seemed to know them."

"Dude, it's going to an Air Force base, and a pretty major one at that. Imagine the kind of chaos a 'shifter or a demon could do in there! Say hello to World War Three."

Sam shuddered. "We've got to stop it."

"No shit, Sherlock. Which is why it's a good thing I still have these:" Dean held up a pair of plastic identification cards. "These're the military IDs Dad got for us when we did that banshee job a couple of years ago, remember?"

"Dean, that was seven years ago."

"You haven't changed that much!" Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean cut him off. "I changed the dates, you moron. We'll wait till it gets darker, and then go take a look."

R'kenoth relinquished control to her host after they were in the car and had left the gas station, and concentrated on repairing the tissue and internal systems which had been damaged by the bullet. Sarai seemed to have recovered from her fright, and since R'Kenoth was blocking most of the pain, she was able to quiz Daniel about the two guys who'd helped her. "...and their vehicle? Absolutely gorgeous."

"You mean that old, black car? It did seem to be in great condition. I'm sure Sam could give you the exact model, make, and year."

On hearing her name, Sam glanced back quickly before refocusing her attention on the road. "I only got a glimpse Daniel, since I was kind of occupied, but I can tell you it's a '67 Chevy Impala. Very nicely restored, I'd say, runs like a dream."

"You can tell all that just from a glance?" Daniel asked, amazed. Even Teal'c was impressed, though you'd have to be able to read his eyebrows in order to get that.

"Well, from a quick glance, and from the fact that they've been following us." The major replied. "They're not totally obvious, so don't bother looking back…" She began, but Daniel had already made a brief scan out the rear window.

"Why would they follow us?" He thought out loud. "They can't be that worried about a stranger, can they? I mean, no offense meant to anyone, but two young guys with a car like that, I'd say their interest in an attractive young woman involves something else besides an impartial interest in her well being, if you get my drift."

Teal'c, from the passenger seat, looked back at him. "They seemed to have purely honorable intentions when they expressed concern over insuring proper medical treatment for her wound."

Daniel shrugged. "Still, I'd like to run that car through the system, find out who these guys are."

Sam nodded. "Me, too. I've already sent the license number in to be checked out, so we should have our answers by the time we get to base.

The musical sounds of Copa Cabana suddenly filled the car, and Daniel, Sam, and Sarai looked around in confusion. Teal'c answered his cell phone. "O'Neill, we have the Tok'ra…should we not proceed to Cheyenne Mountain?"

Sam and Daniel exchanged glances, and Sam held out her hand for the phone, taking a quick right corner to challenge her tail. "Sir, where are we taking her? She needs the medical facilities at the SGC….but….Fine. See you there." She closed the phone and tossed it to Teal'c with a grim frown. "SGC's off limits, we're going to Peterson."

Daniel recognized his cue _not_ to ask, and the rest of the trip was fairly quiet. Quiet that is, except for the occasional "Are they still following?" or "I believe we just passed the bar which you, Major Carter, along with Daniel Jackson and Colonel O'Neill were thrown out of for starting a fight." Luckily, the drive was not long.

Sam pulled the SUV into the drive leading to the base, and pulled to the side of the road just outside the gates to answer her cell phone. Although no longer frowning, the serious look she wore betrayed her displeasure at the current situation to her teammates. "I'll find out what's going on, hang on a second. Sarai, you doing okay?"

The younger woman nodded. "Yeah, R'kenoth says we should be fine with rest, and won't need any major surgery or blood transfusions. She does want to know if you have access to a healing device like the Tok'ra have, since that would help her immensely."

"Good. I'll make a request for one from Area 51, since I don't think we have any at the SGC at the moment. Daniel, keep an eye on her. Teal'c, can you go make sure they've got proper accommodations for us? Take SG-22 with you."

Sam stepped down from the driver's side and flipped open her phone, as Teal'c got out of the other side and moved back to the second SUV to get in with SG-22, who drove past to the checkpoint before entering the base a moment later.

"Sir, I'm ready to hear your reasoning. Why have we brought a wounded alien to a conservative Air Force base instead of a secret facility where she could be taken care of correctly?" Normally calm and reserved, Sam was confused and uneasy. After a few pointed comments, Sam actually was ready to listen, and shut up so Jack could talk. Later, Sam reflected that all things considered it was a good thing they'd been working together for so long, because she had been incredibly out of line. Scientist Sam had momentarily overtaken Soldier Sam with her desire to know the _reasons_ for the orders being given, instead of just obeying them automatically. "Colonel, I thought this was a clear cut operation. Was he something other than a normal, small time thief? I had to admit, I did wonder if it was the Trust, but they're usually much more competent." Jack replied that yes, he was just a druggy looking for some extra cash, but something had come up at the SGC, and caused a hiccup in their plans. "Something's come up?" Sam repeated, her irritation transforming to concern. "What, is it a foothold situation? Some kind of chemical spill, or lab accident? Is everyone alright?"

Jack sheepishly admitted that apparently some of the damage from the latest alien attack had damaged internal systems to the point that the mountain had gone into lockdown…

Sam couldn't believe what she was hearing. "….You've locked yourself in?"

"Carter, this is not a joke. Why are you the only one who can figure these things out? They say it'll be at least another two hours before we can admit or release anyone from the compound."

"Seriously? You guys actually locked the mountain and lost the keys?"

"Major! What's the status on our guest?"

"She's doing alright, mostly needs rest. Can you send an official request to Area 51 for a healing device? Or have you screwed up the computer system too?"

"I'll make sure someone gets it to you. And please, don't tell Peterson what happened! The Jarheads will never let us live it down, let alone those cocky pilots…"

"Yes, Sir. Sir?"

"Yeah, Carter?"

"I'm sorry for taking your head off earlier…if I had known it was just a matter of being locked out…" Sam bit back a laugh.

"Carter? Bite me."

Dean looked at his watch. They'd been on stakeout now for nearly two hours, and although it was still early afternoon, clouds had come in, making the day darker.

"Dean? Do we really have to sit here until it gets dark? There's bound to be a cop or something that comes by and notices us. Besides, we missed lunch, and I'm starving! We can come back tonight and do this."

"Dude, you are such a whiner. But, for once, a whiner with a point. I'm starvin' too. Let's go grab a burger, and come back after dark to kill the evil son of a bitch."

Daniel answered his cell phone and leaned back in the plastic chair in the base infirmary waiting room. "Daniel Jackson." It actually hadn't been too bad, making sure all the medical staff knew they had to take special care with this patient, and restricting the area to necessary and authorized personnel only. The hardest part had been convincing the doctors why they couldn't just go to the SGC, without revealing the latest base mishap. Honestly, what kind of a top military organization locks a team out of their own base? "Hey Jack, how's it going? Did you remember where you put that key yet? No, I'm pretty sure I'd notice if it was there….Okay, good….She's actually doing alright here, but I'm sure the doctors would feel better if she were under the care of someone with appropriate clearance….Those two guys? What'd you find?"

Evidently, quite a bit. Sam and Dean Winchester were the only children of John and Mary Winchester, both deceased. The young men had been very busy, and had a variety of warrants out for their arrest across the United States. The oldest warrant cited Credit Card Fraud, but what caught Daniel's eye was the warrant for Dean Winchester on the charge of aggravated murder. Dean Winchester, according to the report that went with the warrant, was dead. "Jack, he looked pretty lively for a dead guy….and you checked..? …yes, Jack, I realize that "that coming from me" is ironic…"

Further more, testimony from witnesses and acquaintances of the boys seemed to point to the fact that they believed they were demon hunters, or put in other words, crazy. "…really? And people thought I was nuts for my theories, which I actually had logical arguments for! What?...Actually, that would explain why they've been following us…Jack…yeah….that's what I was thinking…...I'll let Sam know…. I think we've got a plan…"


	4. Chapter 2, Part 2

A/N: Sorry about the delay, Real Life got in the way. (Ha! I'm a poet!) Enjoy!_**  
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_**Later that night, outside Peterson Air Force Base**_

"Got the book?"

"Yes Dean, I've got the book. Did you remember to bring your gun?"

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Shutting the trunk, the two brothers walked up the road, Sam hefting their bag of supplies over his shoulder and praying that the guards at the gate were tired and bored and not looking for trouble. It seemed that whatever higher power there was heard those prayers, because it only took one glance at their IDs and a quick once over before they were allowed on base.

"Alright, they probably took it to a medical facility 'cause of the bullet wound. We need to find a directory."

"Let's try this building first." Dean led the way across the dark expense which led to the first building. The lights were on, and the door was open, so the boys walked in cautiously.

"Hi there! Can I help you two?" A young woman sitting behind a desk greeted them with a smile, despite the late hour. "You look a little lost."

Sam stepped up. "Ah, yes, actually. We were told our sister was taken to the infirmary, but we don't know where that is. We were just transferred here, and haven't quite learned the ropes yet." He smiled sincerely.

"Of course." She answered, and got out a map for them.

Dean, for a change, wasn't leering at the secretary, but was instead staring around at the posters on the wall. One was for the Marines, another for Army, and there were multiple recruitment posters for the Air Force. _I wonder if I would've joined up if Mom had lived…_

Sam studied the map as the secretary described where they were going, and then smiled and thanked her. "We were worried no one would be around this late, so thank you very much for your help."

"You're welcome. I hope your sister is okay."

Sam nudged his brother, who flashed a polite smile and a "Thanks" before they left.

"Dude, what was that?"

"What?"

"That secretary was young and pretty and you barely glanced at her!"

"Maybe I was just more concerned with making sure we get the demon."

Sam looked incredulously at his brother. "You're joking, right? Since when has being on a hunt kept you from hitting on girls?"

"Sam, can we please focus here? Where are we goin'?"

Sam reluctantly let the matter drop, and pointed to a building across the square. "That building, second door on the right, down a hallway, and we'll come to the nurses station, she said we should ask there for the room number."

As they walked across the grounds they formulated their plan. "If it's still pretending to be injured, it'll probably be in a bed, one or two guards max."

"Why would there be guards? For all we know they think she's an innocent bystander."

"An innocent bystander who they wouldn't let the medics take to a normal hospital. For whatever reason, Dean, she's special."

"Fine, so, one or two guards, and a hospital room. Are we doing this as an exorcism? Or are we just gonna fling around Holy Water and hope for the best?"

"I don't think we'll have enough time for an exorcism unless she's incapacitated by the Holy Water."

"Unless we do a salt ring to confine her." Dean opened the door and the walked down the hall until they came to the second doorway on their right.

"Sounds like a plan."

"Hey, what's our sister's name?"

"Reckon-something? Wasn't that it?"

"Let's call her Sarah, hmm? It's the most common name on the planet; we're bound to hit something." Dean flashed a grin at his little brother, "Relax! This'll be a walk in the park."

"Hope so. Once we get to the nurses station and figure out where we're headed, I think a distraction is called for."

"Hmm, smoke bomb?"

"Nah, we don't want to make them evacuate the patients."

"I'll just empty a clip in the opposite direction, no problem. Hey, do you think once we exorcise this bitch, the chick'll be so appreciative she'll sleep with me?"

Sam ignored the last comment, although absurdly grateful that Dean was back to his normal chauvinistic behavior, and instead put down his bag, hissing to Dean, "Stay here, and shut up."

This part of the building was dark, lit softly by lamps along the hallway, and a reading lamp on the nurse's desk. As Sam approached the desk, his shadow loomed over the young man staffing the nurses' station. "Hi," Sam began.

"Gah!" The young man jumped.

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Sam smiled apologetically.

"Oh, no. It's okay, sorry. I guess I was just dozing off. What can I help you with?"

"Um, our --" Sam motioned back at Dean, who smiled and waved, "sister was brought in today, she was involved in a shooting accident. We were out of touch all day and only just heard about it when we got back to base, can you tell us what room she's in?"

"The shooting victim? Sarah Jacobson? She's in room 143, but I have to tell you, it's a restricted area. You might have to come back tomorrow to talk to the doctors."

"Oh, okay." Sam was at his most innocent. "Well, do you think they'd mind if we just had a look at the room, so we know where we're going tomorrow?"

"No, go ahead."

Sam nodded imperceptibly at Dean as he went back and picked up the bag from the ground next to his brother.

"Hey, is there a water fountain around here?"

"Yeah, down that hallway, on the left." The nurse pointed down a corridor labeled "Rooms 100-130."

"Great, thanks." Dean headed down in that direction, while Sam smiled his thanks at the helpful young man, and headed in the opposite direction, mentally counting to 25. As he reached 23, turned a corner, and heard shots coming from the other side of the infirmary wing, followed by running footsteps and shouting.

He was a few doors down from 143 when he heard footsteps behind him. He pressed himself into a doorway for cover, but stepped out again when he saw that it was just Dean. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How'd it go?"

"Fine, said I saw the dude run out the back door, they took off in pursuit."

"Great. Okay, the room's right down there. You were right, there's one guard inside the room, but we should be able to knock him out without a fuss." Sam rummaged through the bag, pulling out the book containing exorcisms and a container of salt. "I'll get his attention."

The brothers crept forward until they were next to the door of room 143. "Ready?" Mouthed Sam. Dean nodded.

Sam straightened to his full height, and knocked on the door to get the guard's attention. When he opened the door Sam used the oldest trick in the book to lure him out. "Hey, could you point me in the direction of the nearest bathroom, I hate to bother you, but all these corridors look alike to me." He smiled ingratiatingly. The guard nodded, and stepped out in the hall, opening his mouth to explain things to the poor imbecile when Dean gave him a good hard knock to the back of his head with the butt of his pistol. The brothers carefully lowered him to the ground, and pulled him into one of the empty rooms they had just passed.

They stepped quietly into the room, Dean's gun drawn, Sam's arms filled with book and salt. Sam quickly approached the bed and poured a circle of salt around it, marveling at how still the possessed young woman appeared. "Dean, are we sure about this?"

"You saw her eyes, what else could it be?" Dean aimed his gun at the young women, his other hand ready to uncork a bottle of Holy Water in case she should wake up.

"Yeah." Sam took a deep breath, and opening the book began to read the exorcism.

Just then a bright white light filled the room and suddenly Sam and Dean found themselves surrounded by armed men and women. "Drop the weapons, now! On your knees, hands on your heads!" A voice demanded. Temporarily blinded by the brilliant flash, Dean and Sam were helpless. They set their weapons on the floor, and kneeling, put their hands on their heads as ordered.

"Hey, boys! Nice to see you again!" Said Jack O'Neill.


	5. Chapter 3

A/N: As a treat for Spring Break, here's another chapter for you all!**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

"Don't bother protesting about a misunderstanding here," O'Neill jumped on the words which were about to leave Dean's open mouth. "We know exactly who you are and what you were doing, so we don't even have to go through those tedious questions. Actually, for once we _have_ all the answers!" He grinned, and looked positively surprised by this fact.

The blonde women the boys had seen before stepped forward, a P90 held in her hands. O'Neill had his hanging from a vest clip, but hers was loose, and in Dean's eyes, uncomfortably accessible. "I'm Major Carter, and you two are in a rather serious position. In fact, the only reason we're having this conversation is that you have something to offer us."

"You mean besides good looks and charm?" Dean snarked.

"Yes." Carter replied.

O'Neill spoke again. "Either we lock you up for the rest of your life for any number of crimes, or you guys get to take Sarai on a field trip!"

"You're out of your freakin' mind!" Dean responded incredulously. "Why in hell would we do that?"

"Careful now, we aren't the ones hunting down an 'evil spirit' on a military base in the middle of the night."

"It's only 8 o'clock, that's not the middle of the night." Dean protested under his breath.

"He's got a point, Dean." Sam muttered.

"Like hell he does!" Dean brushed off his brother's comment and addressed O'Neill and Carter. "How do you now we won't just kill her and dump her body in a field somewhere, assuming you're actually serious about this whole thing!"

Carter shrugged, unperturbed by his outburst. "We can find you if we need to, and if you do anything to her, we'll need to."

O'Neill grimaced. "Okay, my knees are hurting just looking at you two. C'mon, stand up."

The brothers looked at each other and slowly stood up. "Um, can we put our hands down now?" Sam asked.

Carter had the guards standing behind them pat them down for weapons, and then allowed them to stand at ease. "Thank you so much." Dean couldn't help himself. Stressful situations always made him snappy and rude…..more rude than usual, that is.

Sam took the chance to speak before his brother earned both of them a beat down. "Why do you want us to take her with us in the first place? Why do any of this?"

"Carter, can you please explain to these two gentlemen why it's in their best interest to do exactly as we say?" O'Neill was getting impatient. Much as he loved dealing with young people and their attitudes, this lovely conversation was going on far too long for his liking….not to mention he was missing a new Simpson's episode. Sure it was being taped, but that just wasn't the same!

"With pleasure, Sir. Sam, Dean, that young woman on the bed in front of you is at the center of a top secret military project. Only the President and a few of his cabinet members even know of its existence." They stared back blankly. "It's a matter of National Security."

Sam paled. He could hear the capital letters on the final two words, and knew precisely what they entailed. Dean looked slightly puzzled. "National Security? What does _she_ have to do with—" Sam pulled his brother aside. "Dude, if it's a matter of "National Security" they can do anything they want to us, and we'll never even see a lawyer, let alone the inside of a courtroom!"

Dean licked his lips, trying to think. "I know Sammy, but we can't take her with us! If she's a demon she'll kill us and anyone else she can find! If she's not, she'll probably _get_ us killed along with herself!"

The man with glasses who the brothers had seen at the gas station stepped forward now, looking decidedly less average in military fatigues. "I'm guessing from that book you guys brought you were under the impression that Sarai was possessed." He exchanged an amused glance with his teammates before going on. "I assure you, Sarai is not about to start projectile vomiting or spinning her head around."

In the back of the room, Teal'c moved his head imperceptibly, and the guard next to him heard him mutter, "_The Exorcist"_ under his breath. Daniel somehow knew what he said, as he shot over his shoulder, "Yes, Teal'c, I have seen that one….it was for a class…"

He turned his attention once more to the brothers in front of him. "We're very grateful for your concern about Sarai, which is why we're offering you this opportunity instead of just locking you up. All you have to do is let this young woman tag along with you on your "road trip" for 30 days, at the end of which you can drop her off here at the base, and be on your merry way. We'll leave you alone, and hopefully you'll leave us alone. Or, you can spend the rest of your life in a cell. It's your choice."

"We won't be a burden, Dean Winchester." The young woman in the bed finally spoke up. Her voice was soft, but strong. "We really want to go with you."

"Okay, that's it!" Dean hissed to Sam. "Talking like that is not normal!" He quickly stepped forward, towards the bed, raising his hands from his sides prepared to do who-knows-what, when a blue arc of electricity came from somewhere in the room and Dean collapsed, twitching as the electric current coursed through his body.

"Stand down!" O'Neill ordered. "Who fired that?"

A young airman stepped forward, face impassive but red. "Sir."

"After this is done, report to General Hammond for disciplinary action and reassignment."

"Sir, yes, Sir." He stepped back.

Sam Winchester had rushed to his brother's side with a cry, ignoring the conversation above him. "Dean, Dean wake up!" He glared at Carter and O'Neill. "What did you do to him?" He demanded.

"Relax, he'll be okay. I've been zatted hundreds of times, and look at me, perfectly fine."

"He's just stunned." Carter reassured him.

"I'm sorry." Sarai shifted uncomfortably in her bed, her face downcast. "We didn't…I mean, I didn't think, and I didn't mean to make him nervous…." She looked at Sam sorrowfully.

"She's not from around here. We wanted to give her a chance to experience more of American culture, which is why she'll be coming along with you and your brother." Daniel stepped in and explained.

Carter continued. "We're sorry that Dean got shot, but now you know we're not joking around. Sam, I realize you can't make this decision right away, so we'll give you and Dean 48 hours to make up your minds." She motioned for the airmen to step forward and grab the brothers. "For now you'll be kept in a holding cell, and tomorrow we'll come by to discuss this further. Goodnight."

"Get 'em outta here." O'Neill ordered.

"Wait, you can't—" Sam stood up and protested, but he was grabbed by a pair of airmen and manhandled out the door and down the hall. Two others lifted Dean and carried him out after.

Sarai leaned back in her bed. "I should've stayed quiet, R'kenoth was right. I'm very sorry, O'Neill, that you had to go to all this trouble about me."

"Don't worry about it, I like making trouble. And these boys have run amuck long enough without someone stepping in. It'll be a good experience for them."

Carter stared at him for a moment. "Sir, I still have doubts about this. I mean, these guys aren't exactly the most stable people we've met…"

"Carter, you have to be a little unstable to deal with a Tok'ra. And you should know!"

She smiled a little at that. "Yes, sir."

Daniel looked around at the supplies the Winchester brothers had dropped. "This book looks very interesting. Jack, can I take a look at it for the 48 hours they're thinking?"

"Sure, knock yourself out. Just don't summon anything you can't control, huh?"

"Very funny. You should probably get somebody in here to clean up that salt, too."

"Carter?"

"On it."

"O'Neill?" The Tok'ra said hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for giving Sarai this chance to prove herself. Many of the Tok'ra believe someone older should have been chosen for this mission, and it is to your credit that you have not sent us back already."

Slightly unnerved that R'kenoth had taken control without him noticing, O'Neill gathered his wits enough to respond. "Oh, yeah, don't mention it. And let's face it, sometimes I really like pissing those guys off, ya know?"

R'kenoth smiled. "Yes, O'Neill, I believe I do."


	6. Chapter 4

When last we left our heroes, they were facing a peculiar dilemma...

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

"…_we'll take her." _

Sam was led by more guards to a conference room, and was told to sit. Obeying, he was pleasantly surprised to find the chairs were much more comfortable than the bed he'd slept on the night before. A moment later Dean was led in, bags under his eyes, but smiling to see his little brother. "Sammy! Sorry I couldn't be there to hold your hand last night, I know you're afraid of the dark, but really man, you've got to learn to let go sometime."

"It's Sam, not Sammy. And you look like crap."

"Aw, you noticed!"

"Well, as heartwarming as this banter is, I've got things to do and places to be, as I'm certain you boys do as well." O'Neill went to the head of the boardroom and put both hands flat on the table top, leaning over it slightly. "Since both of you declined our retirement plan, I'd like to introduce you to your new traveling buddy." He gestured with one hand, and from the doorway at the far end of the room came Major Carter escorting Sarai. "Boys, this is Sarai Rekenoth. Sarai, these two are Sam and Dean Winchester."

Dean smiled at her. "I'm Dean, he's Sam. You can tell which one's which because I'm the better looking one with the cooler name."

Sarai smiled back, unperturbed by Dean's attempt at flirtation. "You are also the shorter one, or so I observed yesterday."

Dean's grin vanished, but Sam bit back a laugh. "He's the older one too, and if that's not a beautiful example of irony than I don't know what is."

"Cute." Dean grimaced at his brother.

"I hope we can expect some maturity out of you two while you're with Sarai?" Major Carter asked skeptically.

"Hey lady, you put this on us." Dean replied swiftly.

Daniel Jackson had entered the room while the boys were speaking to Sarai, and now approached the table, taking a seat and tossing a folder onto the table in front of him. "Okay, here's the deal. Sarai is part of an intercultural exchange program. This is the first time she's been to the United States, and she wanted to get the most authentic experience she could. So, you two have been chosen as the lucky guys who get to tour around the States with her for a month. We'll provide money for her share of the food and lodging costs, and maybe a little extra at the end if everything works out."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "If you would've mentioned the money thing from the start, we could've avoided a whole lotta trouble!" Dean commented.

With a brief smile that was more like a pained smirk, Daniel continued. "We don't care where you take her, as long as it's nowhere dangerous. Trust her judgment of situations she's uncomfortable with, but I don't think you'll have any problems. She's a legal adult both here and in her home country, and we've got papers for her in case you run into official trouble. Right, I think that's it for me. Sam have you got anything to add?"

Sam Winchester looked confused. "What?"

"Sorry, I meant Major Carter." Daniel apologized. "I'm used to calling her Sam…her first name is Samantha…" He explained.

Sam Carter grinned at the mix-up. "We decided it would be too confusing with two Sams, so I've asked these guys to call me Major Carter for the duration."

"Ah." Dean gave his 'yes, I understand smile' underneath puzzled brows, and nodded. Sam followed suit.

"And no, Daniel, I think you've just about covered everything. Sam, Dean, any questions?"

"You mean besides 'why us?'" Sam asked.

"Actually, yeah, I do have a couple." Dean leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Where exactly is Sarai from? Also, why was she listed as Sarah Jacobson on the infirmary register?"

Daniel and Major Carter exchanged glances. "She's from a small Eastern European country, you've probably never heard of. And as for the name…" Carter paused a moment. "Well, to be honest, if we'd of used her real name we would've gotten questions, just like you're asking." She shrugged. "Jacob's my dad's name."

Sam looked askance at his brother. Those were pretty sketchy answers, and didn't really give them any new information. But Dean let it slide and instead addressed O'Neill. "Why did you trust us at the gas station? You left your friend alone and injured with two strange men."

O'Neill shrugged. "My horoscope said it was good day to trust random strangers."

Sam was beginning to get tired of the runaround. "Okay, so you aren't going to tell us all about Sarai. Fine. What do we do now? When are we taking this little excursion?"

Major Carter looked at her watch. "Well, I'd say you will be leaving in about 18 hours."

The Winchesters stared at her. "What? You mean, _now?_" "Okay, now that's just not funny."

"You'll both be given proper rooms tonight, and we've brought your car in so you can get a change of clothes and whatever else you need out of it. For the rest of today you are free to talk to Sarai, get to know her a little better, and then tomorrow you can be on your way. How's 0800 sound for a time of departure?"

"Sounds fantastic, thank you!" Dean gave a wide, false grin. Major Carter ignored the exclamation.

Sarai came over and sat down in a chair next to the brothers, nervously straightening the bottom of her shirt as she did. "So, what do you do for employment?" She asked, trying to initiate a conversation.

Sam froze. "Uh…"

"We're currently between jobs." Dean filled in smoothly. "Our dad died a few months ago, and we've been on a road trip to get away from things for awhile."

_Good call, Dean. These guys have all our files, they'd know if we lied about working someplace._ "Before that I was at college, pre-law." Sam added. "How about you?"

Sarai went quiet for a minute, her eyes unfocusing. "I worked as a seamstress growing up, and lately have been studying the customs and societies of different groups of people." She finally said.

"So, like, sociology, or anthropology?" Sam probed. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Dean had observed her odd behavior as well.

"Yes, anthropology. That is what I am studying." Sarai stated firmly.

"Well! We'll leave you kids to get acquainted." Jack O'Neill said with a grin. "Sorry we don't have donuts…I think Teal'c ate them all." O'Neill patted the large black man standing unnoticed behind the brothers as he left the room, followed shortly by Daniel and Major Carter. Teal'c and two airmen remained, as though they were part of the furnishings of the room, quietly imposing furnishings who looked as though they could take even Sam down with just one hand.

"Right. Who's ready for a game of 20 questions?" Dean said brightly through gritted teeth.

Later the brothers remarked that it was the strangest game of 20 questions ever. In fact, it was more like a game of 500 questions and 20 answers. Yes, Sarai was interested in seeing the largest ball of twine, and no, she did not prefer ice cream to cake. Neither Sam nor Dean was married, they came from Kansas originally, and Sam would rather watch baseball than hockey. Everything else they talked about was answered by a short pause and then a non-answer by Sarai, or else no pause and a smooth lie by Dean or Sam.

As the brothers prepared for bed that night, they talked about their options for the coming month.

"You think we should let Ellen know we're not gonna be taking jobs for the next 30 days?"

"And what, explain to her that we got blackmailed into dragging some wacko-girl's skinny ass around America?"

"Or we could tell her we just decided to take a break?" Sam paused. "Okay, sorry, no. Never mind, forget I said anything."

"Good plan. G'night Sammy.

"Good night, Dean."

* * *

A/N: I don't like the ending to that scene, but really, there's not much else I could do with it. So, next chapter, they're on the road! Finally!  



	7. Chapter 5

Sam, Dean, Sarai and the Impala hit the road!  
A/N:Just as a reminder, all the italics within the double slash-thingies (//) are R'kenoth the Tok'ra's thoughts. I own nothing. Seriously, nothing. Ask my parents.

* * *

**Chapter Five: **

"So far we've seen five museums, two amusement parks, far too many roadside fast food joints for my cholesterol to ever recover, not to mention all the 'weird, wacky, and wonderful' tourist traps!" Dean frowned at his brother in the passenger seat, momentarily taking his eyes off the road.

"Dude, drive." Sam refocused Dean's attention on the highway with a gesture. "We've all taken turns picking things to see, and besides, one of those museums was all about cars! Not to mention those amusement parks were your idea too." _I bet you were just hoping to find some more psycho clowns for us to kill_. Sam added mentally. He could tell his brother was getting restless with this whole "normal vacation" thing.

"What would you prefer, Dean?" Said a female voice from the back seat.

"I would _prefer_-"

Sam cut him off. "I know, let's go check out Roswell!"

"Aw, Sammy! I thought you outgrew that phase!"

"I'm not saying I believe in that crap, Dean, I just think it'd be interesting to see. We've never been there, after all, and who knows, maybe we'll learn something!"

"What is Roswell?" Asked Sarai curiously. From the tone of the argument she gathered they had talked about this before. After two weeks of traveling with the brothers, she had come to realize that much of their interaction revolved around previous shared experiences and inside jokes. Despite the fact that she often had no idea of what they were talking about, Sarai (and R'kenoth) did not feel like an unwanted outsider, instead she felt that her purpose for being on Earth was being fulfilled, as she observed and made mental notes about human behavior, in addition to observing the culture of the society.

"It's a place where supposedly aliens crash-landed to Earth in the 1950s, which was then covered up by the government. There's a museum there that talks about all kinds of alien lore and has exhibits about the different stories." Sam explained.

"Yeah, and in third grade Sammy swore he saw an alien and spent nearly two whole months trying to talk Dad into letting us go do 'research' at Roswell." Dean threw a grin at his younger brother. "Admit it; you just wanted to get the t-shirt."

"Dean, for the last time, it's SAM. And you were interested too; you just wouldn't go against Dad."

"Hey, I'm not the one who said he met E.T." Dean tried to remember why Sam thought he saw an alien. It'd been awhile since he'd thought about the time Sammy went all X-Files on him, looking for proof of aliens.

"It was just a dream I had…" Sam muttered, embarrassed to recall the incident…

**_Nearly Fifteen Years Ago, the Bedroom of a Shabby Apartment:_**

"Dean!" The panicked scream woke the twelve year old from a dream about riding a motorbike at tope speed down a deserted highway. If it had been anyone else, dean would've yelled at them to shut up and go back to sleep in order to try and recapture the feeling of the landscape rushing past him in a blur. But it was his little brother who called, and Dean couldn't ignore his fearful cry.

"Sammy? What is it, are you okay?" Instantly wide awake, Dean grabbed the pistol his Dad had ordered him to keep by his bed and quickly ran to Sam's side of the room. Sam sat up in his bed, his covers pulled tight around him and eyes wide with fright. The eight year old insisted that he was old enough to sleep in a separate bed, but when Dad went on hunting trips, Dean often awoke to find his brother curled up next to hum under the covers.

Tonight, Sam had gone to bed on time, which Dean attributed to the fact that he was worn out from the training exercises they'd gone through earlier that day. Their Dad liked to make sure they were in shape to take care of anything supernatural that came after them when he was away, and he'd tested them thoroughly that afternoon before heading to a neighboring town to take care of a pesky haunting. He'd promised to be back in the morning. At any rate, Sam's outburst was all the more startling because usually training days wore both of them out to the point where they could sleep through just about anything.

"Dean, it was right there!" Sam pointed to an empty corner of the room, his hand shaking slightly.

"Sammy, what is it, a ghost?" Dean crouched near his brother's bed, his young hunter's senses straining to detect the spirit or ghost which had disturbed his brother.

"No! It wasn't a ghost!" Sam knew ghosts, and they were kinda scary to look at, but Dean or his Dad always took care of them, so he knew they wouldn't hurt him.

"Good, 'cause I don't think this thing's loaded with rock salt." Dean admitted his relief, and gestured with the pistol in his hand. "Sammy, what did you see? Do we need to call Dad?"

"It was an alien, Dean! With big black eyes, and it was gray and skinny, and had a big head, and-"

Dean stared directly at his brother for a long moment before speaking. "Are you _kidding_ me?? He shouted. "You had a nightmare about an _alien?_ You wake up screaming from a dream about an alien…" He shook his head in disbelief. "And here I was almost worried for a minute!" He stormed over to his own bed and set down the pistol on the bedside table. "Go to sleep, Sam." Following his own advice, Dean pulled the covers up to his chin, and rolled over to face the wall. "And next time you wake me up from an awesome dream, there sure as _hell_ oughtta be a ghoul standing over you!"

Sam shivered, and pulled the blanket around him tighter, looking longingly at his brother's form under the covers on the next bed. "Dean, I was awake when I saw the alien, it wasn't a dream!" He said softly. And it was true. He'd been woken up by a bright flash of light, and when he opened his eyes he saw a small gray form standing in the shadowed corner. At first he'd thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but when he reopened his eyes after blinking a few times, it was still there. Petrified, young Sam hadn't even been able to yell as the thing took a step closer. Then a door slammed shut somewhere else in the apartment building, the thin walls allowing the sound to carry. It caught the attention of the alien, and the bright light reappeared an instant later, which is when Sam yelled out to Dean.

Sam ducked under the covers and curled up in a tight ball, trying to forget the terrifying events by thinking of happy memories, anything to get rid of the feeling of being completely helpless and alone. He huddled there for a moment, then made up his mind. He didn't care of Dean said he was too old for cuddling; Sam was not going to stay in his bed by himself tonight. He quickly clambered into Dean's bed, and wrapped himself in the blanket, curling against his brother's backside. Dean only grunted sleepily and moved over to give Sam room on the twin bed. "Go to sleep…" He mumbled. "It wasn't a dream." Sammy insisted, although he realized Dean was asleep already. "I'll prove it to you."

And Sam did his best. Over the next few weeks, he did all the research he could at the elementary school library, and even went to the public library with his dad and Dean once, because they were researching a hunt anyway. All he could find were unconfirmed theories, reports of flying saucer sightings, and wild stories about government cover-ups. Dean mocked him mercilessly, and his Dad firmly told him that it had just been a dream, after all there'd been a ring of salt around the room and all the usual protections against supernatural beings, and aliens didn't exist. Furthermore, Dean insisted that if there had actually been anything in the room with them, he would've woken up before Sam's shout.

The eight-year old had persisted in his search for answers for several weeks, but with no further visitations and a move to a new town and a new school. Sammy gradually forgot to worry about it, and by the time he reached his ninth birthday, he'd chalked it up to a simple childhood nightmare. He had new nightmares to worry about when he got his first gun after telling his dad that he thought something lived in his closet, and he turned his attention to hunting with his dad and brother.

_**Present Day, A Highway Somewhere near New Mexico:**_

"Ha ha! That's right, you had that nightmare! I'd nearly forgotten about that." Dean chuckled to himself as he recalled the circumstances surrounding Sam's interest in extraterrestrial beings. "At least you didn't get abducted by them, like that guy at the college!" He teased.

"Dude, I was eight. And you know that guy didn't actually get abducted for real…" Sam trailed off.

"What kind of evidence does this museum have?" Sarai asked intently. The brothers were too busy bickering to notice the sudden sharpness in her tone, or that she had leaned forward in her seat.

"Just random pieces of junk they claim came from outer space." Dean dismissed the so-called proof out of hand. "But I agree: it'd be worth seeing just so Sam can shut up about how he's never been there."

"Fine." Sam decided not to argue the justification, since he was getting what he wanted. "I still say it'll be interesting."

Dean put air quotes around the word 'interesting.' "That's what you said about the world's largest ball of twine. If it's as interesting as that, I'm gonna keel over from all the excitement."

"I thought the ball of twine was fascinating." Sarai put in. R'Kenoth silently agreed. _//It aroused in me a feeling of great wonderment. Wonderment as to why anyone would waste that much of their lifetime wrapping string into a large spherical shape.// _"But, I must admit to being intensely curious about Roswell and its alien museum. How long will it take for us to get there?" _Oh hush. It was a testament to mankind's perseverance. _If R'kenoth had been in control, she would've rolled her eyes.

"With Dean driving? Give it a day." Sam smirked at his brother's disregard for such unimportant things as speed limits and traffic laws.

Dean's only response was to crank up the music; today's heavy metal band of choice was AC/DC.

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_R'kenoth?_ Sarai asked seriously, ignoring the music for the time being. Although it was entirely different from anything she had heard before, but to her surprise she was growing to like it._ Do you think they will actually find any evidence of the goa'uld or extraterrestrial beings at this museum. //No, Sarai, I believe that if there were any truth to those stories, the government would've been smart enough to make sure all the evidence was removed from the sight.// But there's always the chance they missed something, right.// Why, you sound almost anxious for them to discover something, Sarai. //If they did, it'd mean we wouldn't have to pretend to be human, and that'd make things easier. //It would also make things more dangerous.// _

Sarai had to admit R'kenoth had a point. The way the Winchesters had behaved back at the military base had frightened her, especially since Daniel had told her that they sincerely believed that she was possessed by a great evil and were prepared to do a great violence in order to get rid of that evil. _//I am curious to see what the Taur'i think aliens look like, though. I expect this stop to be even more exciting than "The Thing" was!// _One of the roadside attractions which had thrilled R'kenoth, much to Sarai's amusement, was a cheap tourist trap in Arizona that advertised the mysterious body of an unknown creature found in the desert. A dollar paid for a viewing, in addition to getting to see the rest of the eclectic collection of old cars and other knick-knacks. R'kenoth was very interested in American history and legends, and had very much enjoyed the whole experience.

Although he wouldn't admit it, Dean had liked The Thing as well, since it gave him ample opportunity to tease Sam. Also, unbeknownst to Sarai or R'kenoth, Sam and Dean had a bet going as to whether they would find one single supernatural thing in any of the roadside tourist traps, and Dean had put most of his hope on The Thing. Sam, of course, insisted that it was made out of paper mache. Dean maintained that it was a werewolf and cub, mummified by the desert. Dean clung to his five dollars, insisting that they weren't done with the trip yet, but Sam only laughed and told Dean to hand it over.


	8. Chapter 6

Woo! Finally let me upload!! I was trying all weekend, guys, seriously. **  
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**Chapter Six:**

After a brief stop to grab a greasy burger and fries for each, the Winchesters and their new friend found themselves entering a small town within one hundred miles of their goal. For the last several hundred miles they had been discussing the stories about Roswell, and giving Sarai a crash course in alien sightings and legends in the United States as a whole, Dean, of course, interjecting skepticism into every other sentence. Sam preferred to take a more academic approach, and was mostly interested in the different types of evidence people had collected in support of their theories. Sam had just finished explaining what a weather balloon was to Sarai when he caught sight of a sign for lodging.

"Hey Dean, it's nearly 8. What do you say we find a hotel and call it a night? We can easily make it the rest of the way tomorrow morning."

Dean glanced at his brother. "You serious? We've got plenty of gas, we could drive all night."

Sam tried to communicate through facial expressions that he wanted to talk to Dean without Sarai hearing, and that it might be nice for her to have a "normal" American experience in a hotel that wasn't chosen because it happened to be off the road near a gas station, which might actually have a carpet not stained by bodily fluids!

"Dude, you constipated or something?" Dean smirked at Sam's pained expression. "You look like you've got indigestion. Just remember: if you're gonna hurl, do it out the window, and not all over my baby."

Sarai smiled at his remark. The Taur'i custom of showing affection for their vehicles appealed to her, and she fully understood Dean's nickname for his car. R'kenoth was amused by the habit, but could not relate. In her experience, vehicles were changed too often to form any sentimental attachment, not to mention the sheer absurdity of anthropomorphizing mechanical forms of transportation. _I see what you're saying, after all it'd be pretty hard to picture the people of my home world naming our wagons, or calling a farm cart "baby."_ She nearly laughed out loud at the thought. Sarai had nearly died of a terminal illness before she was discovered by travelers through the chaapa'i brought her to the Tok'ra. Her family had accepted her death as inevitable, did not know that when they placed her on the altar to the gods she would be rescued and through bonding with a Tok'ra symbiote be healed of the disease. She could not return to her home planet, but she had passed through the grieving stage and accepted her loss, focusing instead on the wealth of opportunities now open to her. It no longer hurt to speak of her homeland, and even though she no longer had any place in that world, she still held fond memories of her youth there.

Lost in her memories, she missed the next part of the boys' conversation, but evidently Dean had conceded to his brother's wishes, for it was not long afterwards that the sleek Impala pulled into the parking lot of a multi-story hotel with a bright sign reading "Holiday Inn" visible for miles around. After parking, Dean just sat for a moment, looking up at the tall building in contemplative silence.

"Well?" Asked Sam, impatient.

"This is a moment to remember, Sam. Hunter's staying at a freaking _Holiday Inn_. Here's your normal, little brother."

"I have seen these building before in the towns we've traveled through, why do you not stay in them ordinarily?"

Dean jumped a little. He'd actually forgotten that the girl was back there. He quickly tried to disguise his lapse in vigilance by getting out of the car and going to the trunk to grab their bags.

Sam had noticed, judging by the amused look on his face, but he didn't say anything about it, choosing instead to answer Sarai's question. "Usually we're short on cash, or else there isn't any good hotel around when we need to stop." With that brief explanation, he got out and went to the back of the Impala to grab a bag from his brother.

Sarai disembarked as well, carrying her pack with her. She'd insisted on sitting with it in the backseat from the first day of the trip. Dean had asked to see the contents, and R'kenoth replied that if she was allowed to look through their possessions, she would allow her own belongings to be searched. Dean had decided that he'd just been kidding, and let the matter slide.

As soon as they had checked in, using their by-now-usual cover story of siblings taking a road-trip together, Dean dropped his bag on a bed, and made a beeline for the bathroom, shouting "they have a hot tub!" to his brother.

"See! I told you we should've done this sooner!" Sam dug through his own bag, looking for something to use in lieu of swim trunks. Boxers would have to do.

"I am anxious to try the…American version of a hot spring pool." Sarai said. "I have experienced steam bathing and similar forms, but this "hot tub" sounds intriguing." And she began removing her shirt.

"Hey, whoa, hang on." Sam stuttered, blushing.

Dean came out of the bathroom, wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. "What's going on-" Catching sight of Sarai removing her shirt, he quickly turned around to face the opposite direction. "As much as I love the show, Sarai you can't just strip like that without some warning!"

//_Oh dear.//_ R'kenoth sighed. //_I should have warned you about the taur'i nudity taboo that operates here in the United States.// What do you mean?_ Sarai was slightly hurt, and confused. Sam began talking to her before R'kenoth could finish her thought.

"Um, Sarai, in this country…er…"

"We only get naked around people we're close to, and then only in certain circumstances." Dean explained.

"I was simply going to change clothing for something suitable to wear in a hot tub." Sarai tried to explain. "I do not understand why that is unacceptable."

"It has to do with cultural norms and values…" Sam began with a sense of hopelessness in making her understand something that he had honestly never really thought about much.

"Americans value their privacy," Dean stated, then thinking of some of the people he had met in his travels, amended his thought. "Well, most of them do anyway. And that means not changing clothes in front of people they don't know very well." He fought the temptation to look over his shoulder. "Hey, you dressed yet? This is really awkward."

"Nearly so." Sarai quickly finished changing into her bathing suit. _R'kenoth, why have I not learned of this before? I have lived with these two men for nearly fifteen of this planet's days, and it has never been a problem//Well, there has never been an opportunity to swim before this, on the trip, has there?// I do not understand why that should make a difference. Dean said nothing about swimming in his explanation. //Before all the changing of clothes occurred at bedtime or in the morning, when it was accomplished in the bathroom for which there was a need anyway. It was simply a matter of time, but I am sorry I did not prepare you for it earlier.// _During her conversation with R'kenoth, Sam had gone to the bathroom to quickly put on his own swim wear, and then the three of them headed to the Pool Room.

The awkward silence the three traveled in was not nearly as uncomfortable to Sarai as she was listening to R'kenoth tell about the different cultural values the Tok'ra had encountered. Some hosts had ritual taboos similar to the nudity taboo, but others came from cultures where it was a commonly accepted practice to go without clothing at all. Most hosts accepted the compromise put forth by the Tok'ra council, that all Tok'ra wear a similar style of dress, with some small variation according to personality and preference.

Beside the door of the Pool stood two vending machines which caught Sarai's attention. Over the past two weeks, she had become very familiar with the sight, and had grown to love the sugary and salty snacks which came out of them. Sam paused with her. "Listen, I'm sorry about back there. Are you upset with us?"

Sarai, turned, surprised that he would think so. "Oh, no, it was simply a mistranslation, as it were." She gave him a smile and then turned back to the snack machine. "Oooh look. They have Snickers bars!" Sarai had become addicted to Snickers, and Sam had had to limit her to one per day on their trip, or she would have eaten them constantly. R'kenoth had her metaphorical hands full dealing with the effect of the processed corn syrup and chocolate on Sarai's body, but had to admit that it was a tasty invention.

Dean, having no interest in either Sam's apology or Sarai's addiction, had already entered the Pool Room. Stripping of his t-shirt, he was about to slip into the steamy and bubbling hot tub, when he realized there was someone sitting in the chair he had thrown his stuff next to. "Hey!" He said in greeting, not at all put out to be surprised by this vision.

The woman was willowy and tan, with reddish blonde hair and a sweet smile. "Hey. You just check in?"

"Yeah." Dean's desire for the welcome heat of the tub bowed out in response to his new desire to get to know this woman better. "Couldn't resist the siren song of a soothing hot soak, if you know what I mean."

The woman stood up, and came over to introduce herself. "Rachel Grey, I've been staying here while my sister has business in town."

_Sister!_ Dean grinned. _Sammy, this may be your lucky day! It sure as hell is mine!_ "Dean Jacobson," he said, using the last name they were registered under, after all it never hurt to be cautious. "What kind of business does your sister do?"

"She's a Real Estate Agent, still trying to get on her feet." She came closer, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'm supposedly along for moral support, but really I just wanted to get out of the house on someone else's tab."

"I know how that goes. How long are you staying here?"

"Here as in the pool, or here as in the hotel?" The look she gave Dean was far too direct for even Sam to misinterpret, but before Dean could do more than smirk, he felt a light hand on his bicep.

"Dean, I need to borrow a dollar. I know I'm paying for this hotel but I do not have any currency on me." Sarai was considered tall on her world, but she only came up to Dean's chin, and she kept her hand on his arm to get his attention.

The woman Dean had been talking to stepped back, the smile she had worn when Sarai first approached turning into an unfriendly stare. "Yes, I suppose you do know about living on someone else's tab." She said coldly.

Dean brushed off Sarai's hand, ignoring her. "Whatever you're thinking, it's not like that! She's my sister!"

The woman picked up her towel from the chair she had been sitting on before, and gave Dean a hard look. "Of course she is." Without another word, or even a glance at Dean, she stalked out of the room, towel wrapped around her waist.

_I can't believe it!!_ Dean didn't know whether to laugh or cry. _What the hell just happened!_ "Sarai! What is the matter with you? I was in the middle of a conversation!" He glared at her, and grabbed her shoulders. "What was so important that you just couldn't wait to tell me, thus ruining the one chance I've had in weeks to actually relax and enjoy myself!"

Sam came in just in time to stop Dean from shaking the confused girl, calmly taking her aside to explain why Dean was so mad at her. He'd noticed the irritated, though beautiful, woman leaving the pool, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why when he entered the room and saw Dean and Sarai squaring off.

Dean went to the hot tub to soak and sulk, but despite is bad mood, found himself relaxing within moments. _Probably just as well that chick left, if she's so unstable as to get put off by _Sarai, _I'm probably well out of it…_

Sam managed to convince Sarai to leave the Snickers 'till later, and they joined Dean in the hot tub. He hadn't quite let go of his anger with her yet, for interrupting him when he was in the midst of a promising flirtation, but Dean couldn't help but notice that the newest addition to the Winchester road show had a great body, showed off by a one piece bathing suit that did nothing to hide her subtle curves. _Damn it! Maybe I should've gone with that chick after all, this is a bad road to be going down…_He forced himself to think about what his brother was saying, deliberately avoiding looking at Sarai.

Listening to Sam drone on about some road trip his college friends had taken, pretty soon Dean could feel himself dropping off to sleep. Although they hadn't had a dangerous job in about a month, such was the abuse they put their bodies through on a regular basis, that in periods of health, Dean's body soaked up all the sleep it could for future stamina. Not too mention Dean had decided that tomorrow night he wasn't going to get much sleep if he had his way. Once they reached Roswell, surely Sam and Sarai could amuse themselves without him for one night. It'd been far too long since he'd really _enjoyed_ a woman's company….

"Hey, man. I think I'm gonna take a shower and turn in."

"Are you sure?" Sam gave his full attention to his brother, brows creased in concern.

"Dude, I'm fine. But I plan on getting an early start tomorrow, so you better not stay up too late." Dean climbed out of the hot tub and went to grab his things. "Sarai, unless you want to see Sam the Prune, I'd advise not staying in too much longer."

"Prune?" Sarai replied with mild amusement. From TV, she had learned the colloquial meaning of the phrase, but it still seemed very odd to her.

"Well, I was going to say "Prude," but let's face it: that's Sam's normal state." And he ducked out of the room before his younger brother could find something to throw at him.

Sarai mused to herself about the fascinating idioms of American speech, ignoring R'kenoth's laugh at the immaturity of the young taur'i. "Sam, where did the word "prude" come from?" She asked. "I understand the cultural application; Dean was insulting you by implying your sexual values are those of an archaic nature," She began.

"Ah, um, that's not precisely what it means…" Sam protested. "And besides, I'm not like that!"

Once again R'kenoth found herself quite amused, this time by the anxiety of the young man as he blushed and tried to defend himself. Sarai shushed her, more sympathetic. "Oh, I was not trying to imply—"

"No, of course not." Sam was bright red, and shifted uncomfortably. "If you want, I can get you to a website where they explain all sorts of things about American culture and slang."

"That would be wonderful, I thank you."

Sam nodded, eyes downcast. They sat in awkward silence for a minute or two longer, and then by mutual nonverbal agreement, climbed out and headed back to their room.


	9. Chapter 7

A/N: Since this is listed as a cross-over, we finally get some crossing! This chapter deals with Stargate Sg-1, so you need to have some familiarity with the show to understand what's going on here. We're somewhere in Season 7. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Seven:**

_**Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado:**_

Selmak stared silently at the general for a long moment before speaking. "May I inquire as to the reason behind this abrupt decision?" He said at last.

General George Hammond leaned back in his chair, attention focused on the understandably concerned Tok'ra seated on the other side of his desk. "Selmak, I assure you, the decision was seen as the best option available at the time. R'kenoth agreed to it, and I would think that she has proven her trustworthiness and good judgment in the many years she has worked with you. Sarai has only been her host for a year or two, and I realize this, but I am confident they will both be fine."

Selmak was quiet for another moment, and then lowered his head. A white flash of his eyes, and Jacob Carter raised his head and met his old friend's gaze with a rueful expression. "Selmak decided it'd be better if I talked this out with you, as she's the "if you don't have anything constructive to say, don't say anything at all" type."

Hammond grimaced. "That bad, hm? I can only imagine how the rest of the council will react, if this is what I get from one who actually likes us most the time."

"They'll get over it. I think you made the right call, George."

"I wish I had your confidence, Jacob. I trust O'Neill's decisions, but I would like to have had some more information on the Winchester brothers before we sent Sarai off with them. I agree there was the time constraint and we had very limited options, but all we had time for was a quick background check which revealed numerous outstanding warranties!"

"Yet, you allowed them to leave with a young Tok'ra, so I'm sure you had some reason to trust them." Jacob leaned back in the chair, trying to assuage his own doubts as well as those of the SGC's commander.

"Jack evidently did."

"As irritating as he can be, Jack usually knows what he's talking about in these sorts of things." The Tok'ra leaned forward over the desk, elbows creasing the loose papers scattered over the workspace. "You always say you've never met a better field commander, George. If Jack says we can trust them, I think you'd be hard pressed to find a more creditable source for references."

Hammond sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You're right Jacob. Thank you for the support. How's Selmak feeling?"

There was a pause. "Still upset that there wasn't time for a consultation, but now she's beginning to form a way of presenting this to the High Council that won't get us kicked off it and all diplomatic ties with Earth severed."

"Well then, sounds like you've got a day of work ahead of you. I'll leave you two to it." The commander of the SGC stood up, and shook hands with the General-turned-Tok'ra.

"We'll have something for you this evening George, so come by before you leave for the night."

"Oh, don't worry Jacob. I have a feeling this is one of those nights I won't leave the base." He smiled, but Jacob could see he was completely serious.

Jacob nodded and left the office, closing the door behind him softly, as he could see Hammond picking up the phone at his desk, back to business.

"Jack O'Neill, please report to General Hammond's office, Colonel O'Neill to General Hammond's office." Jacob smiled as he heard the announcement over the base-wide speaker system, and Selmak commented //_Your General may be over-trusting, but he is diligent in his search for information. I hope he gets the answers he seeks.//__Yes, _Jacob added, _for both our sakes._

A rap at the door. "Come in."

"You wanted to see me, sir? Has the mission been scrapped?" Jack O'Neill entered General Hammond's office and sank into the chair provided.

"No, SG-1 is still scheduled to go off-world this afternoon, but I need to speak to you on a different matter."

"Oh?" O'Neill shifted in the chair. Hopefully this wasn't about the fact that he'd taken Teal'c to the Marines' weekly poker game, where he'd then proceeded to wipe the floor with them. Strictly speaking they hadn't done anything wrong, since it was off base and during off duty hours, but the Marines had been pretty pissed, and were cranky all Monday because of it.

"It's about the Winchesters."

"Ah." Jack mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "I was worried you were going to blame the Marines' bad attitude on me."

"Now why would I do that?" An amused gleam had entered General Hammond's eye.

Crap. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. "Oh, no reason. None what so ever. What would you like to know about the Winchester boys?"

Making a mental note to check with Walter about Jack's doings lately, Hammond quickly focused his attention to the matter at hand, and his eyes became stern. "For one thing, I want to know why you let a young Tok'ra female go off with two boys wanted throughout the United States for bank robbery and murder, among other things! I trust your judgment, but I'd still like to know why you decided Sarai is safe with those two."

Jack sat up straighter. "Because of a Marine."

Hammond leaned back in his big brown chair. "I thought you said this had nothing to do with the Marines?"

"This was a Marine I knew many years ago, sir, in Black Ops." Jack rarely spoke of those days, and often tried to forget they had ever happened. But when he saw that last name a figure had emerged from those memories, one with a cocky grin who had introduced himself as 'John Winchester, like the rifle.' "It was a joint mission, guys from all branches of the service, the best they could find. I was part of a five man team along with a young jarhead named John Winchester."

Hammond's anxiety decreased immensely at the revelation, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his mind. He stayed quiet though, and motioned for Jack to continue with his story.

"For a Marine, he was a pretty great guy. After the mission we went for a few beers together, and got to know each other pretty well. This was before I married Sara, right before I proposed to her, actually. It was after that mission, because if it hadn't of been for John, I probably would've ate it, and I didn't want to leave Sara unsure of how I really felt…" Jack trailed off, lost in memories of a time so long removed it felt like it had belonged to someone else's life. He shook himself slightly, as if to brush away the vestiges of the past. "Anyway, last I talked to him, he'd retired, got married and settled down."

"And then you recognized the boy's names and found out they were his sons? I understand your confidence in him, but how do you know his sons are on the level? May I remind you about the warrants?"

"Sir, I knew John Winchester. His wife died not too long after their second son was born, and he went a little crazy, but he wouldn't raise his boys to be thieves and murderers. All he wanted was what's best for his boys." Jack leaned forward his words full of carefully controlled emotion. "I can't say what Dean and Sam may have done, but I trust them to take care of Sarai. We used to call him the Boy Scout; he was that serious about honor and duty. John always was about protecting innocents. If the stuff we went through couldn't turn him bad, I don't know what could."

There was a long pause. Jack stared at the decorations on the wall behind General Hammond. He hadn't even though about John in many years, his attention had been so focused on making sure the universe and his corner of it didn't get taken over or destroyed by aliens. But enough, moping around. He leaned back in the chair and rested his hands on his thighs. "There's that, Sir, and the fact that we promised them a significant amount of money when they bring Sarai back safe."

General Hammond had to hold back a smile. "Well, I'm glad to see you haven't lost your edge, Colonel."

"No sir." As lovely as this trip down memory lane had been, Jack was anxious to get his gear and his team together for their mission, and sneaked a glance at his watch. That was then, and this was now, and he'd really like to keep it that way.

Hammond caught the move. "Well, hopefully you won't need it on P4G-329. Dr. Jackson assured me that the site appears to have been abandoned by the goa'uld for several thousands of years."  
"Yes, well. Daniel's not always right about that now is he."

Hammond nodded, and Jack recognized his dismissal. He stood up and paused halfway out the door. "John was a good guy. I was sorry to hear he passed on."

The door closed, and Hammond picked up the phone, stared at it for a moment, and then set the receiver back in its cradle. He'd talk to Jacob this evening and let Selmak know what he'd learned. One thing about Jack's story nagged at him, though, and it wasn't until much later that he realized what it was. John Winchester "went a little crazy" after his wife died, Jack had said. How crazy was "a little"? Suicidal? Homicidal? And how, precisely, did Mary Winchester die?


	10. Chapter 8

Woo! Another chapter! When we last left the brothers Winchester they were enjoying all the comforts of a Holiday Inn, some more so than others... (For those of you who've read my other stories, I am still writing the Stargate one about Daniel's Daughter, and I nearly have enough for another chapter, so don't give up hope!) **  
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**Chapter Eight:**

After a quick shower by each, Sam pulled his brother aside for a chat. "Sarai, we're going to check out the vending machines. Stay here until we get back."

"Of course." A pause. "And will you get a Snickers bar?"

"Yeah, sure." Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him out the door. "Did you see that?"

Sam, who had actually been looking in his wallet, gave Dean an annoyed look. "I don't know, but I need to talk to you about stuff, without Sarai around, if you get my drift."

"Demons, spirits, things that go bump in the night, yes okay. But did you not catch that weird little head tilt she did in there?"

Sam motioned for them to get out of the hallway, and Dean, grumbling, complied. They headed for the laundry room, and barricaded themselves in to gain some privacy.

"Okay, first off, it's been two weeks, we're halfway through this thing, and you have to make some stupid comment about "hunting" and being "normal"! She is _studying_ everything we do, I think she'll notice if we start talking about hunting ghosts!"

"Sam, I think we should be more concerned about hunting _her._ Or have you forgotten her little eye-flash thing? And now, just before we left, that pause between sentences?"

"It's called _thinking_ Dean, you might try it sometime."

Dean glared at his brother for a moment before throwing up his hands. "You know what? Fine. You can ignore the obvious as long as you want, but when that chick goes Dark side, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Fine." There was no reasoning with Dean sometimes, no point even trying.

"What else did you drag me in here to talk about?"

Sam rolled his eyes. And Dean _would_ automatically blame him for initiating the conversation, despite the fact that it had been Dean who'd actually shoved him out of the hotel room. "It's this whole alien thing. Roswell is notorious for all sorts of extraterrestrial activity, and since hunters like us have never found any conclusive evidence for the existence of aliens, we've just written it off."

Dean's expression told Sam he'd better get to the point and quickly.

"So, I was just thinking. What if it _was _caused by something supernatural, like a trickster?"

"That thing we fought with Bobby was a fluke, dude. What would a demigod be doing hanging out in Roswell? Besides, for all we know the alien sightings Roswell's all about _were _caused by our janitor friend; they were mostly back in the 50s and 60s anyway, right?"

"So you admit that it might be something."

"I never said that!" Dean protested, jumping up onto a dryer to perch, since it seemed Sam meant for them to be here awhile.

"It was implied."

Dean resisted the urge to kick his brother in the stomach. "Well, we're already going there, huh? I'll make you a bet—"

"Yeah, 'cause that first one worked out so well for you."

He continued, ignoring Sam's interruption. "I bet you $20 that there will be nothing supernatural in Roswell—except whatever's in Sarai."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You're really stuck on that, aren't you? You've got yourself a bet." The brothers shook on it.

Deciding he'd made his point to Dean, Sam opened the laundry room door. "We better get back to the room before we have to explain porn to Sarai." He said with a wry grin.

"They have porn in other countries, dude. Hell, Europe practically invented it!"

"Europe's not a country, Dean." Sam corrected, knowing it would annoy his brother, but Dean had already hopped down from the dryer and was out the door.

Sam caught up with him at the snack machine.

"Dude, have you got any ones?"

"What, are you out of change?" Sam asked with a smirk.

Dean glared at him, hand open.

"Aw, don't bet if you can't bear losing!" With a shit-eating grin, Sam handed Dean two dollar bills and headed back to their room. "Don't forget the Snickers bar!"

The next morning, Sarai and R'kenoth had gotten up an hour before dawn, as was their custom. The Winchesters had graciously decided at the beginning of the trip to play "rock-paper-scissors" to determine who would sleep on the floor in order to free up a bed for Sarai. After five days, Dean decided that it was much fairer to flip a coin. When Sam protested, Dean insisted that even with a sore back he could still beat his brother in a fair fight. Sam agreed to the coin toss idea.

At the Holiday Inn, however, they had requested a cot which Sam was now sleeping on, having lost the coin toss. In order to get to the bathroom, Sarai had to maneuver around it, and unfortunately she caught the edge of her nightgown on the corner of the cot, and tripped. Somehow she managed to scrape her elbow on the way down, although she luckily missed injuring herself further, her head narrowly missed the edge of the nearby desk.

Alarmed by the crash, Dean sat bolt upright in bed, a large knife in his hand. "Sam! What happened?" He barked, alert enough to scan the room and realize there were no obvious intruders.

A groggy Sam brushed hair out of his face and helped Sarai to her feet. "I dunno…Sarai, are you okay?" He echoed his brother's query. "What happened?"

Her face was calm, but she sounded abashed, saying "I am very sorry for waking you both." _Usually we have better night vision! _ She added to R'kenoth sharply. She brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, and Sam noticed the scrape on her arm.

"Ouch, that looks like it hurt."

Dean mumbled something and slid back down under the covers, turning over to go back to sleep, but Sam swung his legs over the edge of the cot and got up to turn on the lamp. In response, Dean pulled the pillow over his face.

"Let's go clean that up." Sam suggested, and led Sarai to the bathroom sink, ignoring her protestations that she needed no assistance.

Despite Dean's reluctance to wake up early, he did want to get a good start on the day's activities, so he managed to get going such that by 7:45 the brothers were closing the front doors of the Impala and pulling away from the Holiday Inn. Sarai was comfortably settled in the back seat, reading the site Sam had found for her online about American slang. Between the two of them, R'kenoth and Sarai found something amusing about every article, and soon Sam and Dean gave up asking what was so funny, and just ignored her chuckles.

By 1:30 they drove past the sign reading "Welcome to Roswell, NM," and Sarai knew they had arrived at the alien capitol of the United States. The black Chevy purred to a stop in the parking lot of the "International UFO Museum and Research Center," and the occupants disembarked.

//_Sarai I do not think that "chili dog" we had for lunch agreed with your stomach. I'm afraid that I will not be able to finish healing your elbow soon.//_ As she climbed out of the car, Sarai shrugged automatically in response to R'kenoth's words, then internally vocalized her thoughts as she realized the inadequacy of the gesture. _Do not worry about it, Reken, a scraped arm is nothing to concern yourself with. I will be much happier if you focus on aiding my digestive systems. I fear a reappearance of our lunch, otherwise, and the meal was unappetizing enough to look at the first time._

Completely oblivious to his female passenger's discontent, Dean grabbed his jacket and noticed a spot of chili on the upholstery of the car. "Sam! What did I tell you about eating in the car?"

"That was all you, dude. The chili dogs were your idea."

Dean contented himself that there was no lasting damage done to his baby, and then smirked at his brother. "Yeah, they sure were good though. You totally missed out with your wussy corn dog."

From the entrance to the building Sarai called back to them. "Please hurry up! They are only open until 4 o'clock this afternoon!"

As they made their way over to join her, Sam heard his brother mutter under his breath. "It's not even 2 yet, how long does this chick plan on staying?"


	11. Chapter 9

I apologize for the delay in updating this story! Also, for those of you who've read "Daniel's Daughter" please rest assured that I have not forgotten it! I am still working on it! **  
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**Chapter Nine:**

Aaron Buckley was not having a great day. That's not to say he was having a horrible, rotten, no good, very bad day, but it was nothing to write home about, so to speak. His uncle had hired him temporarily to fill in as an admissions cashier while the woman who normally held the position was out sick, and though Aaron certainly didn't dislike the money, the job bored him out of his mind. He was more of an active person, and being stuck behind a desk with only a book, a computer which he had strict orders not to touch, and the repetitive, obvious, and stupid questions from tourists to distract him, he felt like breaking into that song from Muppet Treasure Island, the one about Cabin Fever.

Just when he thought he'd have time for a quick bathroom break, a new group of tourists came in. As was his habit, he tried to guess where they were from and what other sites they'd been to, but these three weren't the usual mom, dad, and kiddies he usually saw.

The tallest of the trio stepped forward and asked for admission for himself and the two others in his party. Aaron saw that of the two men in the group, the shorter one wore an air that distinctly proclaimed he would rather be somewhere else than in this museum. Aaron felt a pang of empathy, as well as a pang of something else. He too would rather be elsewhere, preferably the same place this guy wanted to be. _Let's face it._ Aaron thought, _I'm not getting any straighter, and however much I play it down I just don't look at girls the same way I do guys…_And man, was this guy something to look at. Green eyes with lashes any girl would envy, short cut brown hair, and a face that looked like it could launch at least 1000 ships, relationships, that is.

"Here's your change, sir. We close at 4 today, but we don't kick you out until a quarter after." _And with my luck, not only is he straighter than a flag pole, he's probably the boyfriend of the pretty brunette beside him. _Although, granted, the brunette was currently ignoring him and looking around at the lobby display with interest. The tall man, who needed a hair cut, Aaron noticed, absentmindedly thanked him, and the three left the front desk area.

As he helped the next visitors, Aaron continued thinking about the previous group, trying his best to place the accent he'd heard, in part to distract from the thought of the brilliant green eyes he'd noticed on the man he hadn't talked to. It was definitely not northern or north-western, nor was it Deep South or Texan. Their clothing provided no clue, other than that they favored long sleeve shirts worn in a layered style. The woman had a simple long sleeve tee on and jeans, but the shorter of the two men not only favored a leather jacket with his outfit, it certainly favored him as well. _Aw, c'mon, let it go!_ Aaron told himself.

A few moments later, he also told himself that he really did need to go to the bathroom, and the fact that he chose to use the public restrooms which were at the very back of the museum display area had nothing to do with the possibility of catching a glimpse of the guy with the leather jacket and the green eyes. Also, it was entirely coincidental that he chose the longest possible route through the collection to get there. He passed the man's female companion in front of the display case of the aliens supposedly found at the famous Roswell crash site, but she seemed to be having a fit of some sort.

"Ma'am?" He stopped, concerned. Approaching he was about to put a hand on her shoulder and ask what was the matter when he realized that she was laughing. "What--?"

She turned and noticed his expression. "I am sorry if we disturbed you, I just…" Her eyes went blank for a moment, but then she blinked and continued. "I remembered a funny story my friends told me, and your aliens here reminded me of it." She smiled sincerely, and Aaron stepped back, relieved. Although he couldn't think of any story he knew which would cause such paroxysms of laughter, it was certainly better than having to deal with a hysterical tourist. Despite her odd behavior, she seemed to be perfectly alright now, and continued smiling at him reassuringly.

"Is everything all right here?" The tall man with the shaggy hair came up on them, his brows drawn together in a concerned look. "Sarai, are you alright?"

"I am fine, Sam." The woman reassured her friend. "I was simply talking to this young man about the display."

Aaron nodded. "Is there anything you have questions about?" He asked, as per his uncle's instructions, when what he really wanted to ask was about the third member of their party.

Unfortunately for Aaron, Sam did have a question, about one of the artifacts in the collection. After explaining what he could, Aaron excused himself and finished his quest to answer the call of nature.

An hour and a half later, Aaron was contemplating how upset his uncle would be if he surfed the internet while on duty, when a person approached the front desk and interrupted him. Aaron began his spiel before he looked up, closing the game of solitaire he had going. Just as well since he'd had nothing to work with. "We close at 4 today, but if you'd like to purchase admission, adults are-" And he stopped when he saw who it was. The green eyed man in the leather jacket looked slightly uncomfortable and Aaron caught him throwing a glance over his shoulder as if checking for observers. _Oh please, oh please. _Aaron thought. _Could this possibly be it?_ _Of course not, stop being a moron._ Hope warred against realism, and Aaron had to clear his throat before he could ask, "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah. I was just wondering… the place is really clean and everything, I mean, I couldn't help but notice, and I wanted to ask about….."

Aaron's hope's plummeted as he stopped listening to the guy's rambling question. Disappointment made his answer short, when he finally realized the man was asking about their janitor. "He's been here for four years, I don't know where he worked before that, and he does his job well enough. If you want more information, you can leave a comment card here with your name and number on it."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

Aaron turned back to his computer game, and rested his head on his hand. _Solitaire indeed. _He thought. _I really wish I was straight sometimes. Then maybe I'd have a shot at that woman he came in with. She was good looking, and didn't seem to be with either of those guys…Aw, who am I kidding…_

_R'kenoth, can you _believe_ the stories these Taur'i tell about extraterrestrial beings?_ Sarai had recovered herself from her fit of laughing the clerk had observed, and had read everything in the museum about all the supposed UFO sightings and research up to the present day. _//Well, they are not far off in their approximation of the Asgard, though one does wonder just which member of that species was foolish enough to interfere with the local population of a world under the Protected Planets Treaty.//_ R'kenoth was more interested in the universal implications of the information held in this museum than about the inaccuracies about life on other planets which amused Sarai so much. _I have heard from the members of SG-1 that an Asgard called Loki was discovered in such a meddling position. _Sarai commented, wandering through the exhibits until she came back to the one which depicted the "Roswell Grays." //_I do recall something along those lines, yes...// _R'kenoth agreed.

"Hey, you ready to leave?" Dean abruptly appeared at her shoulder, startling her.

R'kenoth replied. "Yes, I believe so. It is nearing the closing hour as well, is it not?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go tell Sam." Dean turned away, thinking how weird it was to hear proper English spoken by a foreigner. "We'll be at the car."

Aaron stared at the clock, counting the seconds until he could close up. A few tourists on their way out were friendly, leaving with a "Thanks!" or a wave, but for the most part Aaron was ignored as part of the scenery in the lobby. Which, to be honest, was absolutely fine by him at this point. _I swear that second hand hasn't moved for two minutes. I wonder if the clock is broken._ He checked his cell phone, but unfortunately the clock was keeping correct time. A family called "Thank you!" on their way out, and Aaron waved, giving them a fake smile.

"I swear Sam, it's a good thing Dad didn't take us here when we were kids, or you'd have convinced him to buy the whole damn gift shop."

The distinctive voice caught Aaron's attention, and all thoughts of time were forgotten as he watched his favorite visitor cross the lobby in company of his tall friend. Realizing they were leaving and that he was losing his one chance to make conversation, Aaron screwed up his courage and called out, "What'd you think of the museum?"

Barely acknowledging him, the object of Aaron's attention flashed him a smile Aaron recognized as fake as his own of a moment ago, and said something generic and genial. "Very nice."

The other man's smile was much more sincere. "It was very interesting; you guys have a lot of cool stuff here." It seemed that he was going to continue, but his friend was already out the door, heading to the parking lot. Realizing he was being left, the man called Sam tossed a "Have a good day!" back to Aaron and then he was gone as well.

Now thoroughly depressed by the complete rebuff of his overture at friendliness, Aaron ignored the rest of the tourists as they left, and closed up the museum in morose silence after the last of them had gone. _Well, that's the last I'll ever see of him_. Aaron thought, as he did a final round of the building, making sure the lights were off and the doors and windows secure. _If only he wasn't so good looking! Those eyes are going to be hard to forget…_

Lost in his thoughts, as he left the museum through the back door, he was unaware of the black cloud which had manifested itself in the backseat of his car. As he unlocked the door and got into the driver's side, he casually looked in the rear-view mirror. And saw only black. He quickly turned around, but before he could cry out in surprise, the black smoke had poured itself down his throat, taking complete control of what had once been Aaron Buckley.


	12. Chapter 10

Another chapter, yay! I indulge in a little anthropo/mytho-logical musing in this chapter, but there's action too!Let me know what you think.

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**Chapter Ten:**

Dean finished pulling on his boots, and pushed himself up from his seat on the motel bed. "You two geeks had your 'fun', now it's time for Dean's version of a good time."

Sarai was lying on top of the other bed, looking through the pamphlets she had picked up at the museum, and holding the grey blow-up alien she had bought at the gift shop. The thing disturbed Dean, but he did his best to ignore its presence, since he knew Sam would tease him mercilessly about it. "Where are we going, Dean?" She asked.

"_We_ aren't going anywhere." Grabbing his jacket and the keys to the Impala, Dean grinned at his brother and opened the door. He paused on the threshold, tossed, "Have fun babysitting," and then disappeared. A moment later they heard the Chevy's engine rev, and the roar as it pulled out of the parking lot.

Sam rolled his eyes. He'd seen this coming for awhile. It wasn't that Dean was an insensitive womanizer who couldn't go a month without getting drunk or getting laid….he just liked having a good time… Sam sighed. There was no point in trying to explain or rationalize his brother's actions. "Don't mind him; he just needs to get away for awhile. Just because we're brothers doesn't mean we have the same idea of what constitutes fun."

"So I have noticed." Sarai grinned, and went back to reading her booklet.

For lack of any other entertainment, Sam turned on the TV. The first channel was some pay per view item, the next a network of questionable taste that Sam did not feel comfortable watching with Sarai in the room. He quickly changed the channel, landing on a science fiction show about ghost hunters. Caught by surprise, he coughed, and again hastily pushed button on the remote, landing this time in the much safer territory of a NASCAR race.

The volume of the television distracted Sarai from her reading and she looked up in time to catch the preview for "Spirits of the Dead." Even though R'kenoth was more interested in why anyone would want to waste hours of their life watching motorized vehicles travel around in a circle repeatedly, Sarai's interest was piqued by the mention of ghostly apparitions. "Sam, what was that program that was on a moment ago, the one about the after-life?"

"Um…oh, you mean the ghost one? It's just a made up story about people who kill spirits of the restless dead. Dumb stuff." He fought back the voice in his head telling him madly, _Deny, Deny, Deny!_ and struggled to present a calm face.

"So your people don't believe in life after death? Where do these spirits come from?" Sarai set aside her brochures, giving Sam her full attention.

"Well, like I said, the show is just pretend, but there are many different beliefs held in this county. Some people believe in ghosts, some don't. If you're religious, there's the belief in a place you go after you die, and depending on how you've lived your life it's either a good place or a bad place." Muting the television, Sam sat back on the bed. He didn't really care about NASCAR anyway, and his initial reluctance to broach the topic of the supernatural was swiftly giving way in favor of the academic discussion it seemed they were now entering into.

Sarai nodded. It seemed a typical primitive belief pattern like she and R'kenoth had seen on other planets. However, unlike many of those, this planet had not been heavily influenced by false gods after Ra had left many ages ago. "Even those who do not believe in any gods, do they believe in spirits?"

Sam nodded. "There are many people who don't think of themselves as religious, and don't pray to any God who still believe spirits exist. The thing is," Sam caught himself. "I mean, one of the theories is that ghosts are spirits of people who have unfinished business with the living, who can't let go of their past and get stuck in between life and death."

"What becomes of these spirits? And what awaits them in death?" _//Sarai, _R'Kenoth cautioned, _these stories are not real. Ascension is the only way for the 'soul' to leave behind the physical body, and those who have reached Enlightenment have no reason to stay on this plane of existence._// _I know, _said Sarai. _But it is intriguing nevertheless. We have always attributed stories of ghosts and spirits on other worlds as being the result of misunderstood advanced technologies seen through primitive cultural lenses, but here it seems they exist of their own accord._

"No one really knows, but like I said, the different religions each have their own concepts of Heaven and Hell. Although that's mostly just Christianity and the offshoots of Western religion, there are many other religious teachings which don't really mention an afterlife as such. I mean, there's also the idea of reincarnation…" Sam trailed off, as he saw that Sarai had gotten a glassy look in her eyes. He felt vaguely offended; she was the one who had introduced the topic in the first place after all. "I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

"What?" Her eyes came into focus again, and she blushed slightly in embarrassment when she realized he was irritated. "I apologize, I was only thinking about what you have said. These ghosts, who cannot fully accept death, do they remain on this plane forever?"

"Plane?" He was not sure if the word was the result of her language skills or a subconscious choice, but Sam wondered if maybe she had more familiarity with the topic than she appeared to.

"Do they stay here with living humans, on Earth." Sarai corrected.

"Yes, unless the cause of their haunting is discovered and resolved, or their bodies are salted and burned."

"Salt and fire as purifying elements." Sarai nodded.

Sam was astonished at her calm acceptance of the rituals which most people perceived to be nonsensical or ungodly. Her next words cleared up her angle of approach, however, much to his relief.

"Where do these superstitions come from?"

For a moment he had thought that this strange "exchange student" might actually be someone who knew about the hidden side of his and his brother's life, an idea which excited but also scared him. As long as it was there secret, shared only with a few people, their work was safe and no one was in a place to cast judgment on their actions.

"Um, yeah. As far as I know most of the stories and legends extend back to the days of close communities, oral tradition mostly. America is a nation of immigrants, for the most part, and the people brought their folktales and traditions with them from the Old Country."

Sarai smiled in amusement, and Sam paused, thrown. He was confused as to just what she thought was so funny about immigration. Seeing the perplexed look on his face, the young woman explained, "You remind me of Dr. Jackson. He is an anthropologist and expert in folklore and cultural mythology."

"Yes, well…" Sam trailed off. How was he going to explain his knowledge of all things supernatural? He'd already told her that he was a pre-law student, so he couldn't very well claim to be a humanities major and change his story at this point.

Realizing they'd come to an awkward topic, Sarai brought the conversation back to its origin. "On this television show, what exactly is the objective?"

Back on solid ground, although not completely out of the woods yet, Sam replied, "Remember that most of it is faked, but these guys are trying to use scientific instruments to definitively decide whether or not ghosts and spirits, from folk tales and ghost stories, are real or if they're just manifestations of human imagination."

_//Finally, some sensible taur'i.//_

_R'kenoth, he said it was not real, just an entertainment show. _

_//I realize that Sarai, but you cannot truly give credence to these stories?// _

_Reken, you almost sound…fearful. _R'kenoth did not reply, and Sarai quickly spoke the first thing that came to mind so Sam would not become suspicious at her long pause in their conversation. "If modern Americans do not believe the stories are real, what do they credit as the source?"

"Mostly just human psychology, I guess. People making up creatures to explain things they didn't have answers for. Some scholars believe that's why there're so many elements in common between the mythologies of different cultures all over the world." Sarai nodded, it was an understandable explanation for the Earth scientists to make.

"Although," Sam continued, trying to lighten the mood. "There're some nut jobs who have wild theories about aliens and cross-pollination of world cultures." A grin broke over his face and he waited expectantly for a laugh, or at least an amused smile.

"Ah." Was the only response he got; that and a sort of half-smile which didn't reach her eyes.

His attempt at humor having fallen flat on its face, Sam coughed, and awkwardly turned back to the TV, which was now showing a commercial for Budweiser. Which reminded him… "I'd better give Dean a call, see if he's planning on coming back here later tonight to sleep."

"Why-?" Sarai began, but R'kenoth quickly answered before the query emerged fully from her lips. _//I believe Dean has gone in search of female companionship for the night, Sarai.// _The tok'ra said delicately. _Oh!_ It finally clicked for Sarai. _ Of course, he is an unattached young male, and not bad taur'i specimen._ Sarai wasn't quite sure how she felt about the issue.

Sam had grabbed his cell phone from off the low dresser, and missed Sarai's half-asked question. Dialing, the phone rang twice before it was answered with a brief "Yeah?"

"Hey, are you planning on coming back tonight?"

"What?" There was the sound of raucous laughter in the background, and the clink of beer bottles.

"Are you sleeping at the hotel?" Sam yelled into the phone.

"No way, man! Sierra promised to show me her photos!" Dean was also shouting, and Sam held the phone away from his ear. He could practically see his brother's wide grin. "I've always had an interest in art, Sammy, you know that."

"Yeah, the kind they have in Playboy. See you tomorrow."

"What?"

"Bye!" Sam heard no farewell from his brother, but the phone was disconnected. Sam apologized to Sarai, "Sorry about the yelling, Dean's in a bar, and it's hard to hear…"

Sarai nodded, but was clearly distracted by something. "Do you truly think that the theory of intercultural cross-pollination by extra-terrestrials is so unreasonable? You seem to have a great interest in alien life at the museum this afternoon." R'kenoth couldn't help but pursue the new direction their conversation had taken.

And for the second time in as many days, Sam found himself deep in discussion about the likelihood of life on other planets, and whether or not any extra-terrestrials had visited Earth.

Dean, meanwhile, was busy studying the life on this planet. He'd driven past the downtown area, ignoring the tourist bars and clubs, until he'd found a spot near the edge of town. The parking lot had first caught his eye, populated as it was with motorcycles and trucks. But what really drew him in was the '67 Ford Mustang parked near an old '63 Mercury Comet. His Impala would be in good company tonight. And hopefully, so would he.

Ordering a drink at the bar, Dean gave the denizens a once over. The bikers were clearly regulars and were having a noisy and energetic party near the pool table on the other side of the room, in addition to the few solitary drinkers hunched over the bar. Then his attention was caught by a table in the middle of the room, full of people about his age, dressed casually for a night out with friends. Dressed casually, that is, if you count the form fitting purple tank top and short black skirt the blonde woman was wearing when she came up to order drinks for the group 'casual'.

"Hi." Dean opened with a relaxed greeting. "Celebrating something special?" He nodded towards the table she'd just left. He figured even if she was attached, the other two girls at the table with the two guys offered him at least a 50/50 chance.

She smiled in response, and flirtatiously invited him to come join them, saying the occasion was of their own making.

Several hours later, Rebecca, the blonde, was Dean's new best friend. Turns out she was an aspiring photographer, had done some freelance work for local papers, and was more than interested in giving Dean a private showing…of her pictures, of course.

Dean was ordering another drink when Sam called. He tried to go to a quiet corner to hear what his brother was saying, but he still had to put his drink down and cover his other ear. Distracted, he didn't notice the slight young man who brushed past him, and knocked into his drink which was sitting on a table near by.

When Dean picked up his drink again, he notice that some had been sloshed over the sides, but didn't think anything of it, other than to curse about getting it getting all over his hands as he carried it back to the table.

It was only later, when he started to slur his words and have trouble walking, that it occurred to Dean that perhaps something was wrong. "Hey guys, I'm gonna use the res' room, be righ' back." He muttered, and staggered to the back of the bar, looking for somewhere to puke, piss, or otherwise get rid of whatever it was in his system that was messing him up. He hadn't lost track of the drinks he'd had, and he was no where near his usual threshold of drunkenness.

As he steadied himself on the wall of the hallway leading to the toilets, a man came up behind him. "Hey, you alright?" The bright, concerned voice penetrated the haze which Dean currently inhabited. He looked up slowly, and after a minute recognized the features of the young clerk from the UFO museum he'd gone to with Sam and Sarai. "Sam…" He muttered.

"Is that your friend? Do you want me to take you to him?" The overly helpful suggestions raised half a dozen alarm bells, but they were muffled by the fog shrouding Dean's mind. "Car, outside." He managed. _I can call…Sam…from there…_ He finished the thought internally, an accomplishment in and of itself, since the bar was going fuzzy around the edges and Dean was having trouble keeping upright, let alone thinking.

The young man helped Dean across the bar room and out the front door, an arm around his shoulders, and a hand clasping his tightly. Dizzy and sick, Dean could do nothing to but stagger towards the safety of his Impala. _What was in that drink?_ His mind screamed. _Gotta call Sam!_ His brother would set things right.

Out in the parking lot, Dean staggered and nearly fell, almost dragging his assistant down with hum. "S'rry," he murmured, but by now his vision was going dark, and he was leaning his full weight on the clerk for support.

"Don't mention it." Where before the young man's voice had been even, a pleasant, tenor pitch, it now was deeper and much more threatening. Had Dean not lost consciousness at that moment, he might have seen Aaron's eyes turn completely black. "It was my pleasure…or it will be…"

The demon picked up the unconscious hunter and slung him over one shoulder, carrying Dean towards to the far end of the parking lot. The poorly lit area afforded cover for the incongruous sight of a slightly built man carrying the sturdy form of an unconscious body with ease, as though it weighed less than a sick dog.


	13. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven:**

Sarai woke up with an intense itch on her arm, just behind her elbow. _R'kenoth, why is my arm irritated? _ Even as she asked, she craned her neck and twisted her arm, trying to catch a glimpse of the afflicted area.

//_I managed to heal that scratch you got, but the new skin is still in the initial phase of growth, and the scab will be itchy for some time.//_

_Thank you, I think._ Sarai was intensely grateful to the Tok'ra for saving her life, but she had not yet become fully accustomed to sharing custody of her body. There were definite advantages, but at the same time you were no longer really in charge of 'your' body. _You know, Reken, sometimes I do not mind letting scratches heal the slow way; I do not want you to tire yourself needlessly._

Before R'kenoth had a chance to reply, they were distracted by Sam's agitated manner as he did something with his cell phone on the other side of the room.

"C'mon, Dean, where are you?" Sam had gotten a voice-mail from Bobby regarding a potential case, and mentioned that he'd been unable to get a hold of Dean. Sam had chalked this off as part of Dean's night out on the town, but when he'd tried calling this morning, the phone went right to voice mail after a few moments. Now on his third attempt to reach his older brother, Sam couldn't help but be worried. Not with all the things they had chasing them.

"Sam, what is wrong?" Absently itching her elbow, Sarai came up to stand next to the anxious man.

Sam glanced out the window, as if the Impala would be summoned by his gaze to the parking lot. "Um, it's nothing. I just can't get a hold of Dean, that's all. But I'm sure he's just ignoring my calls. I mean, it's not even 8 am yet." Even as he spoke, Sam realized that he was trying to reassure himself as much as Sarai. He forced a smile. "Why don't we go find a restaurant and eat breakfast? It would serve Dean right to miss out on it, after he ditched us last night without a second thought."

"Okay!" Sarai practiced one of the slang terms she had picked up, and was pleased to see the fake smile on Sam's face turn into a real one. "I would like to try waffles."

_**Somewhere near Roswell, NM, the dark interior of a cabin**_

Dean was first aware of the pounding in his head, and for a moment wondered whether last night had actually been worth it. The chick had been hot, but if he'd gotten as wasted as the headache indicated…

Then he remembered: _I never even got to second base! _Well aware now that something was wrong, he cautiously opened his eyes. "Fantastic," he tried to say, but there was a gag in his mouth, and it came out more "fmphafk." _Don't tell me I'm tied to a chair…_Dean rolled his eyes. Bad guys were so unoriginal. He looked around the room, searching for clues as to who had captured him and why. All he remembered about the previous night was passing out on his way to the car, after the museum guy'd helped him out the door…

_That punk! _He couldn't believe it. The kid looked like he was barely out of high school, why would he kidnap Dean? There was no way he could think all this was worth a ransom, and a mugger wouldn't bother with kidnapping. What the hell was going on here? He tried to go through a mental list of the enemies he and his family had made in the past few years, but everyone he could think of was either dead, or wanted _him_ that way. This was definitely not the normal MO of the things they hunted.

The cabin seemed to be the average, non-creepy kind used by hikers and out-doors enthusiasts. No blood stained knives or implements of torture decorated the walls, just a pair of snowshoes and in the corner was a backpack and what looked to be a climbing harness. There were even two front windows with curtains on them.

Dean tested the ropes, but as he'd suspected when he saw the climbing gear, his bindings were firm, and the knots well tied. _Aw, shit. Sam's gonna be pissed. _Why did he always end up tied to a chair? _Being demon bait is supposed to be Sam's gig! _

The front door swung open, and the young man who'd assisted Dean last night came in and flipped on the light-switch.

Blinking at the sudden brightness, Dean realized he was sitting in a fairly nice living room. In the darkness, he hadn't noticed the polished wooden floor, or the couch in the back of the room. Hell, there was even a TV set in the opposite corner!

"Mwpgh!!" Dean yelled, glaring fiercely at his captor. There was no fear in his eyes, just rage and irritation.

"Good morning! How're you feeling?" The man came in, and causally put his keys in his pockets as he stood over Dean. "You can call me Aaron, and I already know who you are, Dean Winchester." Reaching around Dean's head, Aaron untied the gag, making sure his arms were out of the way in case Dean should try and bite him. Prisoners were always so cranky when they first realized they had been kidnapped.

"Listen to me, you sick bastard. You untie me right now and I _might_ just kick your ass, and not kill you." Dean was literally spitting mad. He ranted at Aaron a few more moments before Aaron got bored with the creative expletives and shoved the gag back in. "I think that's enough for now. My turn!"

Aaron drew back from Dean a little ways, and then walked behind him, out of his range of sight. Despite himself, Dean's muscles tensed, and he could feel his heart rate increase. But Aaron had only gone to get a stool, which he set in front of the bound Dean and perched on. _If he starts monologuing, I swear I'm gonna _die_ here_, Dean thought.

"So." Aaron stared at Dean, and Dean stared back defiantly. Suddenly, Aaron's blue eyes turned completely black. "Why can't I possess you?"

Dean jerked back. "_What the hell!_"He yelled, or tried to.

"You see," the demon possessing Aaron continued, "I had this perfect plan for wreaking havoc against all those who stand against my kind. Simple really. Turn them against each other." He grinned, and it was nothing like the smile Dean had received at the museum yesterday afternoon. "I suppose you've heard the old saying, 'set a thief to catch a thief'? Well, it works even better with hunters."

He got up and stood behind Dean. Dean twisted his body to try and keep the demon in sight, but Aaron grabbed Dean's head, and with unnatural strength held him still. "And who better to start with than Dean Winchester? Your brother is already spoken for, but you? You're fair game." His grip tightened and Dean held back a whimper of pain.

"But something is stopping me and I want to know what." He quickly untied the gag and was in front of Dean before the hunter had time to do anything other than take a deep breath.

"Are you sure it's not just that you're incompetent?" Replied Dean snarkily. Truth be told, at that moment he had no idea what the demon was talking about.

A hard slap across the face was all the answer he got. "Why can't I possess you?"

"Look, I don't know. And if I did, why the hell would I tell you?" Dean worked his jaw, wincing at the pain.

Another slap. Dean's face was stinging, and he just knew he was gonna get whiplash from all this. "Wait, you're going to bitch-slap me 'till I cooperate? What is this, a slumber-party?"

Whatever reaction Dean had expected from his smart-ass remarks, it was not the smile which now crossed Aaron's face. "There is a certain lack of atmosphere here, isn't there." He said ruefully, and stood up, stretching out his back. As Dean watched in bemusement, the demon turned off the light, closed the drapes, and returned to his prisoner. "Darkness, that's what was missing. This is much better."

_Just my luck to get captured by a demon three fries short of a happy meal_. Dean thought, and for a moment had to fight the urge to let out a mad giggle.

"Tell you what, Deano, I'm going to go watch some TV, and you stay here and try to think of an answer to my question, hm?"

"Seriously man, you need to work on your-" Dean's trademark smirk was back in the game, as were his wise-cracks. But before he could actually finish his current gem, from out of nowhere came Aaron's fist, which connected with his face in a blow that was certainly no love tap. The gag was back in before Dean actually realized what was happening, but Aaron was done with him for the time being.

Swearing under his breath, Dean saw stars. _Sammy, you sure as hell had better be having a better day than I am. Oh, and take your sweet time finding me, okay? Because this place is really rockin'. _Of course to Dean, it was literally rocking, but that was due more to the fact that his head was still spinning from that last blow, and less to the ambiance or relative coolness of his current surroundings.

Lunchtime, and still no word from Dean.

Sarai, at the insistence of Sam, had chosen a movie to see, and Sam sat in the darkened theater completely unaware of what movie they were presumably watching. _Okay, one night isn't that unusual for Dean, and he likes to sleep in when he can. But he's not answering his phone and it's not like him to go off without out at least _telling_ me where he's going_. Sam fidgeted in the plush seat. His instincts were telling him it was all tied to their work as hunters. But from what information he'd been able to gather from the locals, nothing strange had been happening lately. No odd disappearances, murders or even mangled animal corpses.

He'd had to be discrete with his inquiries, since he didn't want Sarai to realize that they really were hunters of all evil supernatural things. Sure, the Air Force guys had known what they were trying to do with the salt and everything back at the base, but they'd just assumed it was nonsense. If Sarai ever found out that they were deadly serious about the all the paranormal stuff…well, they could say goodbye to that bonus they'd been counting on at the end of this trip.

Sam couldn't exactly file a missing person's report on Dean, _and it hasn't been forty-eight hours yet, either_, he reminded himself. He fretted for the next hour and a half, and then quickly rushed them back to the motel. Thanks to Dean's disappearance, they'd had to walk since the Impala was also AWOL. Luckily, the motel wasn't too far from the center of town.

"I'm gonna go for a quick walk. I think that movie gave me a headache." Sam lied. "Just stay here, okay? Call me if you need anything." Dropping Sarai off at the motel room, Sam took off for an investigative stroll around the area.

R'Kenoth was not amused, but Sarai was. _Clearly he's worried sick about his brother, R'Kenoth, it's rather sweet._

The tok'ra symbiote would've snorted if she'd been in control of their body. //_Also, extremely rude. There is no reason that he should attempt to hide his motivation from you, Dean is obviously missing. Besides, we could have been of help.//_

_True. The more pairs of eyes looking, the better the chances of being seen._ Sarai replied, repeating a common saying from her homeland. She looked at the digital time piece next to the lamp on the bedside table. _It's time for our weekly check in with Stargate Command. Should we report this development, Reken?_ The Tok'ra bowed her head, and R'Kenoth's eyes flashed as she took control. "I feel we must."


	14. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve:**

After communicating with the SGC, Sarai prepared to take a brief nap. R'kenoth was still tired from healing the scratch, in addition to fighting off food poisoning from one of the fast-food meals they'd eaten. General Hammond had ordered them to report back if Dean was not found in the next two days, but in the meantime he saw no reason for the SGC to get involved directly.

Sarai had enjoyed the movie thoroughly, although she did not quite understand all the popular cultural references. Still, "Music and Lyrics" was an entertaining movie which Sarai was glad she had chosen. To R'kenoth, it served only to further the view of the taur'i as a relatively primitive people.

As she lay with her eyes closed on the bed, covered only with a thin sheet, she wondered if the example of sexual relations in the movie explained the Winchester brothers' strange reaction to her nudity at the hotel. Did they see her as a potential sexual partner? Clearly not, for Dean was presently out with a female, and during the movie, when other couples in the theater were making amorous advances to each other, Sam had completely ignored her. _It is a foolish thought, anyway. I will only be here on this planet another two weeks._ She thought to herself.

//_Sarai, please think a little quieter._// Said the goa'uld symbiote who shared her body. _Sorry_. There was a pause in their mental communication as Sarai tried to focus on sleep. //_I do hope nothing has happened to Dean.//_ R'kenoth said, and to her surprise Sarai detected a deep and sincere anxiety behind R'kenoth's words.

_Sam will find him, Reken. Sam takes care of Dean, he will not let anything hurt his older brother._

The equivalent of a sigh came from R'kenoth. //_You are right, and they are both fully capable of taking care of themselves. May we go to sleep now?//_

_Yes._

Tok'ra did not usually have dreams. That isn't to say they could not, but most chose a deep and dreamless sleep or took only the minimal rest required to stay healthy. Sarai's nap, however, was interrupted by a disturbing dream. She was in a museum, getting ready to present her research to an audience of Tok'ra elders and some humans, and a large yellow bird was speaking to Teal'c about something in the corner. Her project was about Winchester rifles, and how they would help the Asgard grow taller. She was just about to begin her speech when the scene suddenly shifted to the back seat of an oversized Impala. From her ant-sized position, Sarai could see thick black smoke above her, hovering in a cloud near the roof of the car. A feeling of fear filled her, and she cried out as the blackness descended and surrounded her, obliterating the surroundings. A shout answered her cry, and she staggered through the cloud blindly, trying to find the source of the voice.

Suddenly, in the darkness there was a faint light moving toward her, a small glowing ball at about chest height. From within the darkness, Sam appeared in front of her, and she realized the light was the glow from the goa'uld hand device he now aimed at her. His eyes flashed, and the force of the hand device threw her backwards powerfully. Instead of falling back and hitting the ground, she fell down through the smoke, down for what seemed like hours before she found herself lying on the dirt of a forest floor. There was a body next to her, on its side. Somehow knowing what she would find, Sarai reached out, and rolled the body over reveal Daniel Jackson, with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

She looked up at the figure standing over them, a gun held loosely in his hand, a wisp of smoke coming from its barrel.

Dean looked back at her with wide eyes. "I'm sorry," He whispered, stricken. Sarai had never seen him look so vulnerable and helpless.

Somehow, the next moment Sarai was in his arms, holding him tightly as he clung to her for dear life.

With a gasp, Sarai snapped awake. She struggled to escape the stranglehold of the sheets which had become wrapped around her. //_Sarai, are you alright? I sensed your sleep was troubled, but I was unable to decipher the brain impulses to sufficiently understand what you dreamt of.//_

_Reken, I think I'm beginning to have feelings for Dean!_ The young host paused. _Also, he and Sam are going to become really evil beings who are going to kill us all. _She added sarcastically as she realized how preposterous her previous statement had been. _It was nothing more than an odd dream. I probably ate too many waffles. _

//_No, it was not the food.//_ R'kenoth was silent for a moment. //_Why is it so unreasonable to think you have feelings for the taur'i man? He is not unhandsome.//_

_He's attractive in a physical sense, but so is his brother and many other males on this planet. If, and I'm not saying that I do,_ if _I have feelings for him, it would only lead to unpleasantness in the future. _

//_You are rather young to be so dour…//_ R'kenoth began, but just then Sarai's attention was drawn away from the cracked ceiling where she'd been staring blankly, to the door as Sam came in, his forehead creased with worry.

"Sarai, has there been any word…?"

"No, Sam, I am sorry. Have you talked to the authorities?"

Sam grimaced. "Um, not…not yet. There's the whole thing about being a suspect in a murder investigation. Which we had nothing to do with, by the way." He hastened to assure her. "Besides, it hasn't been forty-eight hours yet." Seeing her blank look, he explained, "In the United States, a person can't legally be declared missing until forty-eight hours have passed."

"I see."

He grabbed the pack containing his laptop and extra clothing from the corner he'd placed it in the night before and dug through it. "I'm going to ask around at some places Dean might have gone. I'll probably be back before too late, so just stay here and-"

"No, Sam Winchester. I will accompany you." R'kenoth said firmly. Confused, and slightly rattled by the violence of her dream, Sarai willingly allowed the Tok'ra symbiote to take control and do the talking. Also, the walking, for R'kenoth was not going to sit in a dingy motel room for one more minute, waiting around for the taur'i to realize that he could use her help.

"What? No, it could be dangerous-" Sam began, finding the weapons he was after he quickly tucked the gun into his pants and the knife in its sheath before throwing the bag back onto the bed.

R'kenoth did not reply, but only grabbed Sarai's jean jacket and walked past Sam to the door. "We will begin asking after your brother at drinking establishments, yes?"

The slight and unimposing figure of the young woman the Winchesters had been traveling with for the past two weeks suddenly seemed much more intimidating, and Sam found himself reluctant to argue with her quiet determination. He swallowed, and then resigned himself to her company. "Uh, yeah. I looked up the addresses of the local bars, so I guess we'll just work our way down the list." _On foot. _He added mentally with a sigh. Of course Dean would go missing with the car. It was just like his brother to be as difficult as possible in these situations.

"Tell me, does Dean use aliases when picking up women?"

Closing the door to the motel room behind them, Sam was blindsided by the question, and the dull "thud" of the door settling in its frame drowned out his dumbfounded, "um…" as they headed out in search of the wayward older Winchester.

Time had no meaning for Dean, less so even, than it usually did. His captor had decided that a blindfold would help him think better, and Dean had given up counting seconds after one hour. At least, he thought it was an hour, he'd gotten lost somewhere around 3,572, and had just rounded up. _Come on, Sam, what's taking so long? Isn't your psychic mojo kicking in yet? Maybe it's 'cause I'm not really in danger…unless you consider the risk of dying of boredom…_

The gag was still in place, but if it weren't for the excessive dryness of his mouth, Dean would've tried talking, just for something to do. _Man, torture by neglect._

"We're going to try something new, Dean." Came the voice suddenly, causing Dean to start violently in surprise. "Gdmnt!" Dean yelled through his gag. _It's not nice to sneak up on people like that! Especially when they're blindfolded!_

Naturally, the demon ignored Dean's outburst, and calmly untied Dean's feet from the chair, tying them to each other despite Dean's attempt to kick free. "I haven't got years for you to try and use that thick head of yours to solve my problem, so I've had to come up with some alternative ways to get the secret out of you."

Dean heard the clink of handcuffs, and was prepared when the demon untied his arm, but he was not faster than the possessed Aaron, who caught his arm and easily restrained it while attacking the handcuffs to Dean's other wrist. With limbs secured, Aaron removed the gag, leaving the blindfold in place.

"Bondage is not my thing, man."

"Truth be told it's not really mine either." The demon said casually, as he picked Dean up and took him to the kitchen area of the cabin. "But, we work with what we have." Producing a rope, Aaron tied Dean's hands to a metal hook hanging from an exposed ceiling rafter, and Dean cursed at him angrily. "I swear, if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to hunt down every single one of your motherf—ing cousins and send them back to the deepest pits of Hell for all eternity! God help me if I don't!"

"Oh, He'll need to help you anyway."

Dean tried jack-knifing his legs, but missed the demon completely, who had anticipated the move. He barely held back a whimper as he felt a fist impact his back, just above his kidneys. A blow to the stomach next, making him gasp.

"I appreciate your need to work out, because that right hook seriously needs help, but there's gotta be gym around here somewhere." He continued, despite the pain from the beating he was receiving. "I hear they have a sale on punching bags downtown. Evil does pay you, right?" A kick to the groin was his reply. "Touchy subject." Dean choked out, once he'd managed to swallow the bile that had arose in his throat. "Okay, no more talk about money."

"You are really are irritating, aren't you?" The demon's voice was still a calm, level tone, but Dean could hear the twinge of annoyance underneath. He opened his mouth to reply, but a one-two punch to his sternum and head knocked the wind and the lights, right out of him, and by the time he came around some time later, he had completely forgotten the extremely witty comeback he'd thought of.

He had, however, remembered what it was that had the demon so riled up. _Bobby's medallion! It's keeping the demon from possessing me!_ After the demon formerly known as Meg had possessed Sam, Bobby had given the brothers medals to prevent a similar occurrence in the future. Dean had added the medal to the pendent he wore continuously about his neck, and it was still safely tucked underneath his clothing.

Still strung up like a plucked turkey, Dean's arms were aching and he could feel a swelling beginning on the side of his face, but he grinned widely in spite of the pain. "You really are stupid!" He said out loud. "Demons are not exactly known for being brilliant, but you? You've got to be like the Paris Hilton of demons. Ain't nothin' upstairs but _air_!" Dean listened intently for a movement, or a response of any kind. It would be a shame if no one was around to hear his clever remarks.

"Are you ready to surrender yourself to me?"

"God, no. I thought I told you, I don't swing that way." Good, the demon was around. Wait, notgood! _Keep talking,_ maybe it would give him time to figure out a plan of escape. "I mean, not that I blame you or anything, 'cause I am pretty good-looking, but sorry, I'm a chicks-only kinda guy. Now if my _brother_ were here…" Dean was only marginally aware of what he was saying, as he thought furiously about what he had to worth with in terms of an escape plan. A detached corner of his brain detected the soft-tread of the demon as he crossed the room to where Dean hung. "…I'm not saying he's gay or anything, but sometimes its hard not to-"

A mouth covered Dean's own, halting the torrent of words. Under the blindfold Dean's eyes popped open, and he tried to jerk his head back, but the hands on either side of his face prevented him from breaking the kiss. He twisted as best he could, and tried to kick out, but the demon was too close for him to get any leverage.

Finally, the possessed Aaron stepped away. "How do you know you don't like something unless you try it?" He said, amusement in his voice.

Dean spat in the direction of the voice. "You are one sick bastard." He smirked a little. He was unnerved by the assault, but was determined not to show it. "Do what you want, but you're not taking me over. You'll have to kill me, and then all your hard work will be for nothing."

"Hard work? Dean, I'm afraid you don't know demons nearly as well as you think you do." Aaron crossed the room, and paused by the kitchen sink. "I'm sure you've experienced all sorts of physical pain, and since I'm not really one for long speeches," Dean snorted at that. "…I get to stretch my creativity with you. This isn't _work_, Dean Winchester." The demon reached out and turned on the faucet, pausing for moment to watch the water swirl down the drain. "This is precisely my idea of what constitutes good time."

Hearing the echo of his own opinion of the past evenings doings, Dean sighed. "Of courts it is…" His heart sank. Sexual assault was unpleasant enough, but this was just unfair. Then again, he shouldn't expect fair from a dude who'd kick you in the jewels…. This was a new low, though. Why was it always the simplest methods which seemed to be the most effective? Pain was one thing; continuous discomfort was something else entirely. _Sam, you better get your ass in gear, I can't hold it forever! I'm gonna have to pee sometime!_


	15. Chapter 13

A/N: Right, sorry about the long break. (It's hard to be motivated without reviews...) But, here ya go, another chapter of our continuing saga of Sam, Dean, and their Tok'ra companion Sarai. When we last left our heroes, Dean was still missing, and R'kenoth badgered Sam into letting them help him look.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: **

"Sir, do you remember seeing this man around last night?" Sam showed a picture of his brother to a bartender, only to receive a head shake in negative response. Sam sighed. "Thank you."

While Sam quizzed the people inside the bar, Sarai waited outside, talking to the curious bystanders who had gathered to watch the out-of-towners canvass all the bars in the immediate area. She explained, actually R'kenoth explained, that they were looking for a friend who had not returned after a night of drinking.

Sam emerged out of the "79th street Pub" and squinted at the brightness of the day after being in the darkened drinking establishment. "That's it; this is the last one on my list." He shook his head tiredly. It was nearing five in the afternoon, and they had been looking for over two hours straight.

Most of the locals drifted off, laughing at the image of a drunken tourist losing his cell phone and forgetting where he was staying, but a teenage girl stayed with Sarai on the sidewalk, hovering shyly in the background.

"Do you know of any other places one might go to meet people for an alcoholic drink?" R'kenoth asked her, approaching the girl slowly and speaking in a low, calm voice. _Reken, I doubt she knows anything. Probably just wants to stare admiringly at Sam for a few more minutes._ Sarai commented.

"Um, I guess." To Sarai's surprise, the girl nervously brushed her hair behind her ear, and answered the question. "I've heard of this biker bar at the east end of town, but I thought it'd been closed down by the county Health Commissioner. At least, that's what my friends told me. Some guy died of food poisoning or something."

"And if they're operating without a license, they wouldn't be listed." Sam had overheard the conversation, and jumped in excitedly. "Sarai, let's go. Where exactly is this place?"

"14th and Pine."

_**14**__**th**__** and Pine, the Parking Lot of the "Bludgeoned Badger Sports Bar and Grill":**_

"There she is!" Sam had managed to persuade the teen they'd talked to in town to give them a lift, and scarcely had she dropped them off before he was running across the lot to the Impala. For a moment Sarai and R'kenoth thought he was going to kiss it, but all he did was pat the hood, and check all the doors and windows. "She looks okay, no break-in attempt." Sam picked the lock on the trunk, and checked under the false bottom, forgetting for a moment about Sarai's presence or the need to keep the reality of their hunting a secret. "All his stuff is still here." Sam quickly closed the trunk, and walked towards the bar, taking such large strides R'kenoth found herself taking two steps for every one of his.

"Were those different types of guns in your trunk?"

"What? Oh, yeah. My brother's a collector." Sam didn't have the time or patience to come up with a good lie. Dean had been here, it was only a matter of whether or not he was still present. As indicated by the nearly empty parking lot, there were few people in the bar at this time of day. Evidently, Happy Hour had not yet reached its peak. Making his way through the pool tables, Sam approached the bar and waited impatiently for the barkeeper to finish serving a customer before making his query.

"Hey. I'm looking for a friend of mine; he may have come here last night. Do you remember seeing this man?" Sam held out the picture again. It was from before Sam had left for college, and in it Dean was scowling at having his picture taken. It was the only picture Sam had of his brother that wasn't attached to a fake I.D. or taken before high school. Dean would be really pissed if he found out Sam had been showing a picture of his pimpled phase. You wouldn't know it now, but in 8th grade Dean had had horrible acne.

"Nope, sorry. Though, I only had the early shift yesterday. Let me go get Stuart, he might have seen your friend." The bartender shouted to the back room, "Hey Stuart! C'mere for a second." Turning back to Sam and Sarai, he said, "Are you sure he didn't just go off with someone?"

Sam looked away briefly. "Actually, we're pretty sure he did, we just need to know who, so we can find her-"

"Him." A new voice said.

"What?"

"Your friend there," Stuart was an older man with grizzled gray hair and a face wrinkled like laundry fresh from the dryer. "I remember seeing him leave with a young man with kinda reddish hair. I noticed the kid because he looked kinda young to be here, but he didn't order a drink, so I didn't have the chance to ID him."

"You're saying my br- my friend left with a young _man_?" Sam raised an eyebrow incredulously. Demons, yes. Ghosts, spirits, sure. The last thing he had expected to find was that his brother, Mr. Macho himself, while in search of a hook-up, had left the bar with a man.

"We accept all types here, long as they don't make a fuss." The first bar tender said. Side by side, it was apparent the two men were related, although Stuart was the elder by quite a few years.

"Dean's not gay." Sam replied with conviction. He knew it was irrational, but the idea of his brother being with a _guy_ made him feel queasy. If Dean had left with some dude, it must have been that he'd met a new friend to go drinking with, that's all. There was no reason to jump to conclusions….besides the fact that the Impala was still here, without Dean.

R'kenoth realized that Sam was too emotionally involved to have an objective view of the circumstances, and asked Stuart for more details. "Can you describe the young man further?"

"Not off the top of my head, no." Stuart and the other bartender who looked to be his brother exchanged glances. "Tell you what, we can show you footage from the security camera, but we'll need your promise to help us out with a little problem of our own in return."

"Sure, what do you need?" Sam was desperate to see that footage. Surely it would reveal that Dean had been forced, somehow, to leave with the guy.

The older man nodded at the picture of Dean, still lying on the bar. "That's the same picture your daddy showed me last time he was here. It was awhile ago, but he was so proud of the way you two boys had grown up."

Sam sat down on the barstool with slight thump. "You know, knew, our dad? You know who I am?"

"Winchester? Yeah, 'course I do. Knew yer mom too, afore she passed on. It was a long time ago, let me tell you. Long before you or Dean were born. There was a flash flood, see, and I just…"

_Does _everyone_ know Dad in this country?_ Sam wondered, dumbstruck. Stuart was still telling his story, but Sam heard none of the words.

Stuart's brother cleared his throat meaningfully, and Stuart came back to the here and now. Sam likewise was called back to the present in time to here him say, "Sorry. A.J.'s right, we can reminisce about old times later. After you find your brother, then you guys can come back and give us a hand, agreed?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah." He and Sarai followed A.J. and Stuart to the back of the bar, and into the small room with a surveillance set-up.

"We've only got one camera working, in the bar itself." Stuart explained.

"I keep telling him to get the one in the lot fixed, but he says he ain't got the time and we ain't got the money." A.J. added.

Sam felt a pang of loss as the two men argued in a friendly fashion. _Dean, when I find you I am going to kick your ass into next week for leaving me like this._

R'kenoth looked at the equipment with disdain. "This 'surveillance' hardly warrants the term. It is not even _digital_, yet." Stuart didn't take offense to the young women's tone, and only smiled mildly. Sam, however, was startled by her sudden forthrightness, and he thought he heard her mutter "so _primitive!_" under her breath. And she hadn't asked him any questions for the last two hours of their search regarding American culture either…

"Here we are, last night around 10 pm." A.J. put the tape into the player, and they watched the static on the small television screen resolve itself into a grainy black and white image of the bar room, filled with people. Around 10:51, Sam, Sarai, and proprietors of the place watches as the staggering figure of Dean crossed the room, and left, assisted by a young man R'kenoth recognized instantly from the UFO museum. She hit the pause button, and the frame froze.

"That is him, Sam; the young man is the desk clerk at the International UFO Museum and Research Center. I suspected he had an interest in your brother beyond that he usually displays towards tourists."

"What?" Sam had totally missed that part of the visit.

"While you were still perusing the information presented, I noticed Dean went to ask something of the clerk. My habit is studying human behavior, and the signs displayed were that of a more than friendly interest." R'kenoth explained. She leaned in to examine the still image, and tapped on the TV screen with a slender finger. "There, see?"

Sam peered closer, and forced himself to admit that it appeared his brother's hand was being held by the young man. Dean had been staggering pretty badly though, on the surveillance footage, and it was probably just a supporting hand…. Sam struggled to rationalize what he was seeing. "Okay, so…if Dean left with this guy, where did they go?"

"Too bad you don't have GPS tracker installed in him, eh?" A.J. commented, with a significant glance at Sarai, as if to say "See? We know about modern technology, we aren't living in the dark ages here."

Sam smacked himself in the forehead. "Sarai, stay here and see if you can find any clues about where they might've been headed. Stuart, do you have a phone I can use?" _How could I have forgotten!_

R'kenoth stayed in the surveillance room, although she had no idea what use she would be there since they had gotten all they could from the security recording already. But, clearly, Sam wanted her out of the way for the moment, and both R'kenoth and Sarai were willing to give him that.

Sam hung up, feeling both stupid and overjoyed at once. He'd activated the GPS in Dean's cell phone, and had a location not ten minutes away by car. He couldn't believe that it had taken him this long to think of that! "Sarai, come on! I know where Dean is." Sam practically ran back to the small storage closet-turned-security center to grab the foreign young woman and leave. When he got there, he stopped dead in his tracks, Dean momentarily forgotten. "The hell did you do?"

The room was the same dingy space, but now wires covered 2 of the four walls, and an old computer monitor and tower had been added. The quality of the surveillance footage on screen was remarkably clearer, and where it had been only black and white before, was now in full color.

"I became bored, and decided to update some of their systems. Not very well, I'm afraid, but I did not have much to work with." She stood up, and walked past him out the door, heading towards the front of the bar. "Where are we going?"

Sam was taken by surprise, again, and followed her down the hallway. "Um, not too far." Passing a store room, Sam stuck his head in and waved goodbye to Stuart. "Thanks for your help. And don't worry; we'll be sure to stop in once we get Dean."

Stuart nodded. "No problem. See you in a few."

Wincing at the thought of what his brother would do to him if he scratched the paint, Sam jimmied open the door of the Impala, and he and Sarai drove off to rescue Dean from whatever awkward situation he'd gotten himself into.


	16. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen: **

"Sarai, the important thing to learn here is how _not_ to drive in America," Sam declared, imparting his words of wisdom as he swerved slightly to avoid a dead animal in the road. Cheered at the prospect of Dean's imminent return, Sam drove too fast through town, and onto the highway indicated on the directions he'd gotten that would lead to the GPS dot representing his brother. _Or at least his brother's cell phone_, said the small pessimistic voice in the back of his mind.

"Noted." R'kenoth replied. Sarai had long since recovered from her odd dream, but was satisfied to 'ride shotgun' in her body for awhile. _I love taur'i slang!_ She declared. Thanks to Sam's computer and wi-fi, she'd learned many new phrases and couldn't wait to try them out. R'kenoth was thankful that Sarai was mature enough to wait for her turn without squabbling, since she had the feeling that the Winchesters might not appreciate Sarai's vocal enthusiasm.

Sam didn't notice he had stopped breathing until he drove around the gentle curve of the last bend in the road directly before the stretch of road which was their end goal. He let out his breath in a tense sigh, and realized he'd been holding it for the last few minutes.

"Dean seems quite capable of taking care of himself, Sam." R'kenoth said gently, looking over at him from the passenger seat.

"He is, it's just that…" Sam paused. "It's always been his job to take care of me, but he won't let me take care of him. And then he gets himself in these stupid situations...he's my family…" Sam gathered himself. "Sometimes he needs help." He stated finally, and left it at that.

"There are few things more important than family." R'kenoth agreed softly. Sarai added her own agreement, although only R'kenoth heard it.

Sam nodded absently, hall his attention focused on the road ahead, looking for any turn-outs or dirt roads. Then, just ahead on the shoulder of the highway he saw a car, apparently abandoned.

He pulled the car over, bringing the Impala to a quick stop. Jumping out, he ran over to the lone car, calling for his brother. "Dean! Can you hear me? Dean?"

R'kenoth stayed back and observed the tall Winchester, and was aware the moment he realized the car was indeed deserted. Although not defeated, his body language told her that Dean was nowhere to be found, and their GPS idea had failed.

Sam came back to the black Chevy, and leaned against the passenger side to talk to Sarai through the open window. "I'm going to do a thorough search of the car, hopefully find some clues." He paused, not certain if his next idea would be approved by the new, assertive Sarai. "Do you mind staying in the car? It might be kind of hard with two people…"

"I do not mind. Let me know if you require any assistance." R'kenoth had decided to do a little inquiry of her own. She got out Sam's laptop, and after a bit of reprogramming, it was able to access the wireless internet from town. While Sam searched the car for clues, she would find the identity of the man Dean had left with…

Sam did a once over of the car, before moving into any in-depth examination. The doors and windows were shut and locked, as was the trunk, so whatever caused the car to be abandoned, it hadn't happened suddenly. The headlights likewise had been turned off. Sam easily broke into the car, and checked the floor, the seats, and the glove compartment, finding nothing more than car lint, trash, and a scattering of maps and documentation. The documents gave him the name of the car's owner, though, so he tucked them away in his pocket. _Dean's cell phone has to be around here somewhere, the GPS couldn't that far off, and I haven't seen anything to tell me he went off the road._ On either side of the highway was a typical New Mexican desert scene, complete with scrub grass and bushes on the ground, but nothing capable of hiding a body.

Sam pulled out his cell, and called Dean's, listening intently for his brother's ring tone. The sounds of heavy metal came faintly to his ears, and he followed the sound to the trunk. He had already checked inside for… any obvious clues, _such as a body, _but he had left it before making a really thorough investigation.

The trunk was dark in the coming dusk, and although he could hear the phone, he couldn't see it. Sam ran back to the Impala and grabbed a flashlight from the trunk, absently noting that the passenger compartment was illuminated with the glow of his laptop screen as Sarai typed away at it in the front seat. He was about to head back to the mystery car when his attention was caught by the small light blinking on Dean's homemade EMF detector. They had a real one they used for most of their cases, but Dean had been so proud of his handiwork that he wouldn't let Sam throw out the converted walk-man. Sam now found himself blessing his brother's pig-headedness. In his worry about Dean, Sam had forgotten to grab the other device from his bag back at the hotel. He'd just taken the weapons he thought he'd need and took off.

Now, he grabbed the small black rectangle and quickly returned to the open trunk of the abandoned vehicle, shining the flashlight in to illuminate the dark space. Even with the light, it took Sam a minute to find the phone, which had fallen in with the spare tire. All the while, the EMF detector had been reading steady. Pocketing the light and the cell phone, Sam went over the rest of the car again with the detector, which read higher and higher levels of EMF as Sam approached the driver's side. Holding the incongruous piece of plastic and wires above the steering wheel, Sam watched as all the indicator lights lit up. "Crap." He muttered. Whatever had happened to Dean, it had something, a lot "something", to do with the supernatural.

Back in Roswell, Sam reported the abandoned car to the police, and learned that it had been reported stolen just that afternoon. Deciding not to push his luck, Sam didn't ask who the car belonged to, but resolved to do a search for the name on the car's documents, a Mr. Clark Mathers.

R'kenoth had refused to stay in the car while Sam talked to the police, and she found herself admiring the ease with which he spun a

story about happening to find the car on the side of the road, and reporting it for worry of accidents in the coming dusk. //_If the Tok'ra could lie this convincingly, we would not need the taur'i to help us defeat the goa'uld.//_ She commented, mostly in jest.

Once they were back in the Impala, Sarai took control again. "Hey Sam, are we going to order out for dinner?" She asked.

The man responded absently as he hotwired the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. "Yeah, I was thinking tacos tonight…" He looked at her sharply, "wait, you're talking differently than you were a minute ago."

"I'm just practicing talking like an American," Sarai explained with a grin. _See Reken? You don't have to be human to lie well!_

//_This I know to be true.//_ R'kenoth replied wryly.

"Okay…" Sam wasn't sure what to make of this, but he didn't have the attention to spare to think about it long. "I'm going to look this guy up, and then tomorrow we'll pay him a visit. Hopefully he'll be able to tell us where Dean and the other guy went." Putting optimism he didn't really feel into his voice, Sam assured Sarai that they would find Dean by late afternoon and they would all go out for a real dinner. _I'll sneak out tonight and take a look around this Mather guy's place. There's no way I'm dragging Sarai along on a hunt, especially when I have no idea what I'm actually dealing with!_

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The room was dark, with only the faint reflection of moonlight off the refrigerator and Formica countertops for illumination. Dean groaned as he became conscious. Well, boredom was no longer the issue. Pain, a familiar companion, had seemingly decided to take up permanent residence in his shoulders and arms, and he had discovered, before it got to the point where dislocation was a real possibility, that there was nothing in range of his legs which might help improve the situation. Still blindfolded, he couldn't tell whether it was dark or not outside, but he suspected it was nighttime by the noises which came in through the partially opened window. Bullfrogs, crickets, or whatever they were did not come out during the day, in his experience.

_Right, one day down, hopefully no more to go._ The demon had spent some more time raging at him to give in, and had gone back to beating him after Dean had remained recalcitrant even after he wet his pants. _Okay, that's it. Sammy, you had your chance, but I am not waiting around here until you decide its time to play hero._ He decided taking stock of his physical condition would be a good first step.

His wrists were bound tightly to some sort of beam above him, and he could feel the trickle of blood running down his arms from where the ropes had chaffed the skin raw. Of course, it wasn't a lot of blood, seeing as the circulation up there wasn't too great after being strung up all day. Which meant numb fingers. Great. The blindfold was fairly tight, although it had loosened over the course of the day. Gag, uncomfortably tight, and Dean could taste bile in the back of his mouth, probably from that kick to his nuts at the beginning of this fun filled experience. His captor hadn't exactly given him a chance to freshen up in the course of the day, and the cold dampness of his pants was a sensation Dean would gladly forgo if he could. And then there were the bruises, abrasions, and other miscellaneous injuries which were the result of being punched, kicked, pinched, and otherwise physically abused by a moron of a demon.

But, Dean's feet were free, and although he could only barely touch the ground with the toe of one foot, this gave him some options. He didn't know what they were yet, but he had them, he was sure of it.

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Sam carefully pulled on his shoes and stood up, pausing for a moment to see if the creaking of the bed springs, now relieved of his weight, would disturb Sarai. She remained peacefully asleep in the other bed, however, and Sam continued gathering his supplies for his night time excursion. He was almost to the door, when suddenly the room went white. As the intense pain gripped him, he clutched his head and staggered. A flash of another place, another time. "No." He groaned, "Not now! He fell to his knees, grimacing. Now he was seeing flashes of a living-room, decorated with skies and snowshoes on the wall. A figure stood next to a chair in the middle of the room, a large knife held in his hand. The vision suddenly changed to a different perspective, and Sam saw the blade come down and slash across the victim's throat, the ensuing font of dark blood staining the familiar leather jacket. Only in the last scene of the vision did Sam have his worst fears confirmed. His brother's head lolled horribly to the side, as the dead man, still tied to the chair, finished the last jerky paroxysm of death.

Sam opened his eyes, only to find the hotel room was blurred with unshed tears.

"Sam, you are safe, do not worry, we are here with you. Everything will be well. Do you need medical attention?" Sarai was sitting next to him on the floor, one hand gripping his tightly, the other resting comfortingly on his shoulder.

"Dean," the Winchester muttered, still suffering from the after-effects of the vision. The image of his brother's cut throat seemed to hang in the air in front of him. Quickly releasing Sarai's hand, Sam desperately ran for the bathroom, and made it to the toilet before throwing up.

Sarai stood helplessly in the bathroom doorway, and flicked the lights on. "What happened?"

Swallowing hard, Sam leaned his head against the toiled as he tried to process what had just happened and how he was supposed to explain it to the young woman who had been thrust into he and his brother's life. "Um, I just…had a bad dream…must've been something in that burrito." He tried smiling weakly.

Sarai wasn't buying. "And you were fully dressed and almost to the door before you had this dream. You were, how do you call it, "sleepwalking"?"

To Sam's ears, she seemed to be putting extra stress on the foreign accent to her words, and he blushed slightly at the glaring obviousness lie he'd just tried to feed her.

"I understand your concern for your brother, but I am not a child, and am capable of protecting myself, whether you believe me or not. If you are going out in search of him, than I am coming as well."

"Fine. Get dressed." Sam tried to stand up, and managed to get vertical without aid.

"We will go out in the morning. There is no advantage to be gained by searching in the dark." R'kenoth's tone brooked no argument.

Sam considered protesting, but the determined expression on Sarai's face told him he wasn't leaving the hotel room without a fight, something he didn't really feel up to right now. "…okay."

"You have not adequately explained your…fit." The young woman reminded him sternly as they made their way slowly back to the bedroom. "It must have been a truly terrible dream."

"It was." He replied shortly. Sarai seemed to hear something in his voice, for she did not push the issue, and seemed to have forgotten about the strangeness of circumstances which had awoken her. Sam, however, was not so lucky. Every time he closed his eyes, there on the inside of his eyelids was the image of his dead brother, neck wound gaping like a horrible parody of a smile.

Instead of trying to sleep, Sam trolled the internet for any mention of paranormal events in or near Roswell in recent years. He intentionally ignored any mention of aliens, but with " Roswell" in the search parameters, the going was not easy. The figure in the vision, the one with the knife, looked human, but with the EMF traces in the car, Sam knew it had to be something like a demon, shape shifter, or another humanoid beast. _Like we thought Sarai was at first…_ a small voice added in the back of his mind. It was a completely irrelevant thought, and one Sam didn't have time for, so he quickly pushed it aside. It occurred to him that he might be fighting the Yellow-Eyed Demon, that which had taken his father, mother, girlfriend, and now might be threatening his brother.

_C'mon Sam, stay focused. Find out where this thing is, get Dean, and exorcise the son of a bitch. Business as usual._ Only he was getting awfully tired of this kind of "usual." He almost found himself wishing he was back in the time right after Dean had dragged him away from school. Even though the pain of Jess's death was still fresh, back then it was him and Dean against the evil creatures they'd been raised to hunt, only a phone call away from their father. Now, Dad was dead, Dean was fighting his own personal demons, (no pun intended,) and he had to deal with a mysterious destiny that loomed closer with every evil thing they came in contact with. And then there was the whole thing about being caught by the USAF and having to drag around some foreign exchange student for a month. "Our lives are weird." Sam muttered, smiling in spite of himself as he closed down the programs and shut the laptop. He had found nothing to indicate the presence of a werewolf, skin walker, shape shifter, or anything else which could give him a solid lead, but according to the desktop clock, it was time to get coffee, wake up Sarai, and begin the hunt anew.


	17. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen:**

_**A quiet neighborhood in Roswell, NM, Morning:**_

The man and the woman walking up the driveway of the white, one story house conferred quietly in the morning sunshine, either not wanting to disturb the inhabitants of the house or simply desiring to keep their discussion private.

"Sam, is this wise? It is not yet 6 am." Both reasons motivated Sarai to keep her comments to a whisper. The man she addressed was not constrained by worry about the early morning quiet, but didn't want to alarm his potential lead.

"Every minute we waste is a minute not spent finding Dean." Even as he said it Sam realized how nonsensical that sentence sounded. Impatient, he shook the hair out of his eyes. "Come on."

Motioning for Sarai to stay behind him, he rang the doorbell and waited anxiously. The young woman ignored his gesture, and stood beside him on the cement porch, idly looking around her at the houseplants, and taking note of the name plaque proudly displayed which read "The Mathers" in bold letters.

After a minute or two, Sam rang the bell again, listening closely for any sounds of movement from within the silent house. He was about to press the bell for the third time, when he heard the sound of a muffled tread. Sam put on his most pleasant, trustworthy face, and hid his nervousness as they heard the sound of the lock turning, and the door opened a crack to reveal a face as tired and careworn as Sam's was earnest.

The man peering out from behind his front door looked to be in his late 50s, with graying hair which betrayed his recent exodus from bed. He had on an old t-shirt and an expression that was more worried than angry. "Yes, what is it? Have you heard from Aaron?"

Sam had his mouth part way open, all ready to launch into an explanation about a being new to the neighborhood and how his car had just run out of gas on the way to work this morning, but at this conversation opener he shut it, thrown completely off his game.

Sarai stepped in smoothly. "Actually, we're here to see Aaron. He didn't look so good after work on Wednesday, and we thought we'd see if he was feeling okay."

Her companion gaped at her. She stared at him, silently telling him to go along with it. "Remember? I told you that Mr. Mathers is Aaron's uncle, and that he sometimes stays here." She smiled at the uncle in question.

"Oh, yeah, right. How is Aaron?" Sam had no idea what Sarai was doing, but he crossed his fingers and prayed that she did.

"Still missing." The man opened the door wider, revealing a worn house robe thrown on over his sleep wear. "You had better come in."

Sarai introduced the two searchers as old friends of Aaron's, who were in town briefly and had made a date to get together and reminisce about old times. Mr. Mathers' didn't seem terribly interested in their cover, which was a relief to Sam, who felt that Sarai's story was far too thin for comfort.

Instead, he sat them down on the living room couch and proceeded to explain that his nephew was missing, and that he had just received a call that the car he had been driving was found abandoned on the highway.

"Aaron said his truck was having engine trouble, so I let him take the car to work, but that was two days ago. He wasn't at work yesterday, so I called around, but none of his friends had seen him." The distressed older man ran a hand through his already rumpled hair, and sighed heavily. "Truth is, he's been having some…personal trouble lately, and I hate to think of what might be going on in that kid's mind."

Sam read between the lines and leaned forward, kicking his empathy into full gear. "You mean Aaron was depressed?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd say that…" Aaron's uncle hedged. "Sometimes when he's upset he'll take off for awhile, to clear his head, but he usually gives me some warning. And it's not like him to skip work." He added firmly. "He's only filling in at the museum, but he takes his responsibilities seriously." Mr. Mathers trailed off, the conversation clearly making him more anxious. "Would either of you like something to drink?" He changed subjects abruptly, and when Sarai and Sam asked for some water, he quickly went off to the kitchen.

Sam instantly rounded on his irksome, current, partner. "What do you think you're doing? Who is "Aaron" and what does he have to do with Dean's disappearance?"

The young woman had a rather smug expression on her face. "You are not the only one who can investigate, Sam Winchester. While you were busy elsewhere, I researched the identity of the museum clerk we observed on the bar's surveillance footage. He is Aaron Buckley, the nephew of Clark Mathers. It does not require a great leap of logic to deduce a connection between them with the car providing additional proof. And now we know that Aaron is missing as well."

Pushing aside his irritation that Sarai had found out about Aaron without telling him, Sam focused on the new information. "If Aaron and Dean are both missing, without their cars, then the same thing- same person, might have taken them both." He thought out loud. "Why? What do they have in common?"

"They were seen leaving the bar together." Sarai added. "If Aaron's interest in your brother was what I speculated it might be," she continued, but was interrupted by Sam.

"Then that just might be the connection we're looking for." Sam glanced quickly at the kitchen, but their host was still busy gathering refreshments. "Regardless of fact, if someone thought that Dean and Aaron were gay, then we have a motive. Homophobia can make people do nasty things." A queer sense of relief filled the young hunter. Perhaps this mystery could be attributed to purely human evil.

Sarai noticed the odd quality of his voice. "And this is a good thing?"

"No, no, but at least we know what…we're…dealing with…" Sam's spirits fell as he remembered the EMF. "We have a lead." He said firmly, shoring up his hope. Sarai looked like she was going to question him further, but Mr. Mathers returned with their drinks, and a cup of coffee for himself, forestalling further conversation.

"Its good to know Aaron keeps in touch with friends from years ago." The older ma commented, and Sarai exchanged a brief glance with Sam, who stepped up to field the implied question.

"Well, we were already headed this way, and we thought it'd be fun to see him again." Going off a hunch, Sam went on a metaphorical fishing expedition. "I was hoping he'd still be the same outdoors person we knew way back when, since I have a new pair of rock climbing shoes I wanted to show him."

Now it was Sarai's turn to stare in shock at the sudden knowledge her teammate displayed.

"Yeah, Aaron's still more at home on a rock wall than in a classroom." The old man smiled fondly.

"That's good to hear." Sam paused a moment, glad that his idea had played out. Taking a different angle, he delicately pushed ahead. "These problems Aaron's been having, they wouldn't have anything to do with him being homosexual, would they?"

The uncle's instant defensive posture was all the answer Sam needed. "What do you mean? Where did you get that idea?"

Sam put a placating hand out. "Please, don't be upset. We care about Aaron, and we're just trying to figure out where he went."

Sarai had to admire Sam's ability to exude sympathy. Throughout the interview, R'kenoth had been focused on helping Sarai keep up with Sam's intuitive leaps, but she too had been thrown by his mention of rock climbing. _//He had no way of knowing what sort of activities interested the missing taur'i, I do not understand how he guessed correctly.//_ _Don't worry, R'kenoth, I will be sure and press him for his source after this inquisition is finished. I too am extremely curious. _The young tok'ra quietly observed, as Sam reassured the distraught Mr. Mathers that they were completely accepting of Aaron's personal lifestyle, and only wanted to help. _R'kenoth, _Sarai said suddenly, amusement in her mental voice, _do you not think Sam resembles a young dog, a "puppy" when he wears the expression currently employed to gain Clark Mathers' trust?_

There was silence for a moment as R'kenoth digested her host's comment. //_I must admit there is a certain similarity in appearance…//_ She said reluctantly. No further reply was needed, as Sam addressed Sarai directly, and her attention was once more directed completely outward.

"I said, wasn't there a place we used to go to with Aaron to stay when we went hiking?" Sam stared significantly at Sarai as he repeated the comment which had demanded her attention.

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry. I was only remembering the good times we had." She responded quickly. Sam hid a grimace at her poor recovery.

"You mean the cabin?" Mr. Mathers supplied. At their nods he smiled faintly. "I imagine it's rather different now then when you two last saw it. Aaron uses it as kind of a personal retreat center, and believe me, I've already checked there. No cars outside, all the lights off." He shook his head. "No, I've just got to keep telling myself Aaron's just laying low for a few days, staying out of the public eye." He fixed a stern eye on the two young people in front of him. "If you two know he's gay, then it's a sure bet other people in this town do too, and not all of them are as accepting. That boy is in for some tough days ahead, I think he needs all the strength he can get, and if a few days of peace and quiet are what he needs, then so be it." Quietly he added, "I just wish he would let us know he's okay."

"Mr. Mathers, we'll keep our eyes and ears open for Aaron, but we're only in town a short time. Do you think, I hate to ask under the circumstances and all, but do you think we could go visit that cabin? For old time's sake?" Sam asked after a moment.

Sarai didn't know where Sam had gotten his information, but she could see where he planned to go with it. "It's been a long time, Sam, I don't remember exactly how to get there." She put in, playing along.

Mr. Mathers waved a hand, cutting off Sam before he could respond to the cue to ask for directions. "I suppose since you're only passing through you won't have time to do much damage," he smiled, showing his comment was meant in jest, "so I can't see the harm in letting you take a look at the place." He pulled himself out of the armchair he'd been sitting in, and rummaged through a stack of magazines on an end table for a piece of scratch paper and a pen. "It's a nice place, but I was thinking of selling it. Aaron lives with his parents most of the time, but he stays with me now and then when I have work for him, so I've hung on to it for his sake, really."

"It's very kind of you to let us visit. We'll do our best to try and help find Aaron while we're here, if we think of anything we'll let you know." Sam and Sarai stood up, and after thanking him again for his hospitality, and wished him well and left the house, the hand drawn map and hastily scrawled directions clutched in Sam's hand.

As they got in the Impala and drove away, Sarai looked back at the ordinary house, with its neat lawn, and marveled at the wealth of human drama stored inside. The pickup truck in the driveway they'd passed on their walk to the front door gave no clue that its owner was missing or that he might be in grave danger. _R'kenoth, was this whole planetary exchange project _really _about educating the tok'ra people about the taur'i? Or did you agree to it because you thought I might learn something about people in general?_

The older being projected quiet amusement to her young host. _//Must there be only one reason which motivates a course of action? We can learn much from our allies at Stargate Command, but there are some things which can only be learned through experience.//_

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The gravel crunched under the tires of the black Chevy Impala, and the uneven roadway rocked the passengers in their seats. Barely even noticing the rough road, all Sarai could hear was her heart beating quickly, despite the regulating presence of the tok'ra symbiote. By his silence, she could tell Sam was also anxious, and not just about the effect the gravel and dust was having on his brother's beloved car.

Sam was uneasy for many reasons. First of all, his brother had been kidnapped, possibly along with Aaron Buckley. Of course, it could be that his brother was kidnapped by Aaron Buckley, which was if anything more worrisome, because for Dean to be taken out by a random guy implied something else was very wrong. Secondly, (or perhaps thirdly, it was hard for Sam to categorize his thoughts as they whirled around his mind,) he had detected traces of EMF at the abandoned car, so he knew something supernatural was involved, but not how or why. And then there was the disturbing vision of the early morning. Usually his visions had something to do with the Yellow-Eyed Demon, but at this point the evidence seemed to point to violent humans acting out of some sort of homophobia as the culprits. Which brought him to a third (fourth?) point of apprehension: could there be any chance that Dean was actually gay or bi?

"I think we missed a turn, Sam." Sarai's comment brought Sam out of his brooding.

"What?"

She pointed out the back window. "I think I saw the entrance to the drive back there."

Sam craned his neck, and saw a slight depression in the brush lining the shoulder back down the road a ways. "Damn it." He muttered. "Hang on." Executing a quick three point turn, within moments they were heading back the way they had just come.

Executing a maneuver normally associated with Dean's driving skills, the Impala tore around the corner and onto the driveway leading to what Sam sincerely hoped was the end of this frustrating missing persons case.

"The tires on your vehicle would last much longer if you did not drive her with such disregard for the basic physics of friction." R'kenoth did not understand Sarai's love of the sleek black machine, but she had picked up the habit of personifying the car, and couldn't help but feel bad for the abuse the rough road was causing.

Sam spared a brief glance at the woman in the passenger seat, a bemused if not confused look on his face. "You're worried about the _car _at a time like this?" _Man, this chick is more like Dean than I thought!_ "Listen, when we get there, stay in the car. I'll go in and check out the cabin, but I need you to stay here. I mean it this time. Whatever took Dean is probably very dangerous, and I know you want to help, but if I'm distracted by worrying about you, it'll be worse for both of us." He winced internally at the words, having heard variations of them from his father and brother many times in the past. But it was true! If he had to keep Sarai's safety in mind, then he wouldn't be able to focus on rescuing Dean and killing the s-o-b that took him! Bad enough that this Aaron kid was also involved. When it came to dealing with the victims of the evil the Winchesters fought, rescues were best done when the brothers divided the tasks: one to kill evil, the other to get the innocents to safety. This time, there were too many innocents involved and not enough hunters.

_Getting Dean out is first priority; hopefully he'll be in good enough shape to help with the rest of it. _Sam told himself. "I think I see a clearing up ahead, we're almost there."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your reviews! I'm glad someone's getting to read this monstrosity. I had no idea it would be this long! 


	18. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen: **

"Midmorning, the Second Day." The voice came from Dean's left, intentionally made deep and dramatic. Footsteps came closer, and the voice came from immediately in front of his face when it added, "and what a fine day it is. I am convinced, today is the day!" A finger prodded him in the chest. "It is today, right? You've had enough?"

Groaning, Dean lifted his chin from his chest to stare blindly at the possessed man who insisted on torturing him with melodrama in addition to physical pain. The gag was removed, and he licked his dry lips before replying, not that there was much moisture in his mouth either. "You bet. I've had it up to here with all this crap."

"Great! Sooooo, what is it? Is there some kind of spell on you? A hex? Not a geas, I hope, those are nasty to remove without destroying the body."

"I said, I've had enough of this crap. Just kill me and be done with it. Please." Not one for begging, the sarcasm held only a grain of truth. Dean's reserves were drained, and try as he might, he had to admit he didn't see a way out of this unless his brother came through. _Which he will!_ _If he doesn't, I am going to haunt his ass from here to Armageddon._ His whole body ached, and hunger and thirst were taking their toll as well.

The demon said nothing for a moment, but then sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose I can always frame your brother. That would get me something out of this mess. Alright, we'll do it your way. Death it is!"

Dean's tired body was flooded with adrenaline as he realized the demon was seriously intending to kill him. "Hey, no, wait, let's think about this! I thought you said Sammy was spoken for, you don't want to go messing with the big guy's plans, now do you?"

Aaron's body walked across to a drawer in the kitchen counter, and pulled out a large carving knife. "Plans are made to change, Dean. 'Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.'" He held up the knife to Dean's face, though the blindfold was still in place. He stared at the length of polished metal in which half of his face was reflected next to his captive's. The sight momentarily drew his attention away from the butchery he was about to commit. "Aaron loved this cabin, it was his refuge."

_Son of a bitch. Now the bastard's reminiscing about the possessed dude! _Dean rolled his head to the side, and froze as he felt the edge of the knife blade against his cheek. "What about Aaron? What does he have to do with any of this?" The elder Winchester brother shifted tactics. Time was all had going for him at this point.

"Aaron? Oh, he was just the right person at the wrong time, or is it the wrong person at the right time?" The demon tilted his head. "Either way, I went through the door opportunity offered me. But he has some great memories of this kitchen: family gatherings, game nights with friends. It would be a shame to spoil the place."

"Yeah, killing is just so messy, isn't it. What say we avoid the whole unpleasant business?" Dean played along. That's what doctors said to do with delusional people, right?

"The front room, now there we have some lovely hardwood floors."

"Blood stains are impossible to get out of some materials, wood floors being one of them." Dean reminded the demon seriously. He was getting that desire to bust out laughing again, at the sheer absurdity of his situation.

"Hmm, good point." The demon paused for thought, absently drawing the knife along Dean's cheek, although not pressing hard enough to do more damage than a few shallow scratches. "Once, when Aaron was young, his older cousins beat him up over a game of go-fish." Another pause. "The front room will do nicely."

"I don't think-" Dean began, but scarcely were the words out of his mouth than they became a reality as the demon once again knocked him unconscious.

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Sam pulled over into the underbrush at the edge of the clearing, cutting the motor. He sat in the Impala a moment, staring at the cabin in front of him. It was a cabin in the modern sense, essentially just a house built in the middle of the woods for people who wanted to be close to nature yet still retain the conveniences of civilization. It looked abandoned, just like Clark Mathers had said. But something in Sam's gut told him this was where he was supposed to be.

"Why is this considered a "cabin"?" Sarai asked, echoing his thoughts of a moment ago. "It looks just like all the other houses I've seen since I've been here."

"Um, it's complicated. I'll explain later." Wincing at the creak of the door, Sam quickly exited the driver's side, and circled around to the trunk. As he heard the passenger door opening, he barked "Sarai, stay in the car! This is deadly serious, please, just do as I say."

_R'kenoth, we cannot sit idly by as Sam walks into danger alone! I may be very young, but I am trained in the methods of combat by the Tok'ra! And you will protect me as well! Tell him we are coming along._

//_Sarai, calm down. We will help Sam, but let him think his orders are being followed. Arguing about it will only waste time, and possibly alert those who have taken Dean Winchester and Aaron Buckley._//

Sarai closed the door, but as Sam hefted his supplies and headed off towards the cabin, he could see she did not look pleased about it.

He kept to the edge of the clearing, using brush for cover as much as he could. Creeping up to the side of the cabin, he surreptitiously peered in through a window, cursing whoever had decided that curtains were an essential feature of any cabin's interior décor. There were no lights on inside, and Sam could see only the shadowy shapes of furniture throughout the room, nothing that looked human. Remembering his vision, he changed angles, trying to get a look at the walls. Sure enough, he could make out a pair of snowshoes pinned to the wall in decoration, exactly as he had seen last night.

Sam drew back from the cabin, and rummaged through the bag he had brought from the Impala's trunk. Tucking a pistol into the back of his waist band, he equipped his pockets with a flask of holy water and a book containing exorcism rituals. He then hefted a sawed-off shotgun loaded with rock salt in one hand, leaving the other free. _I really wish I knew what exactly I'm dealing with here!_ He thought unhappily. Unprepared was something no hunter could afford to be. Having a basic arsenal to deal with the most common supernatural elements helped, but what he really needed was detailed information on the thing he was hunting and its weaknesses. He tucked the empty satchel under one arm, and carefully made his way around to the back of the cabin, looking for another way in. It was the first rule of breaking and entering: Don't use the front door.

Except this time, there was no back door. _What kind of an architect builds a house with only one exit?_ Sam cursed as he circled the cabin, keeping an eye on the windows, ready to duck at the slightest twitch of a curtain.

He came back around to the front of the house just in time to see the front door close softly behind the slim figure of the woman who Sam had ordered to remain in the safety of the car! _Shit_. No time to worry about stealth now. He hefted the gun in his hand, made sure he had easy access to the holy water, and ran for the door.

Since he hadn't heard the sounds of any violence inside, he followed Sarai's lead and gently turned the knob to open the door, instead of kicking it in, as he felt like doing.

The door opened on a neatly furnished living room, but Sam had eyes only for the centerpiece. There, tied to a solid wooden chair, was his brother, head hanging limply over his chest. His heart pounding, Sam carefully made his way across the hardwood floor, wary of creaky boards, to untie Dean. He barely heard Sarai's soft voice over the mantra in his head _please be alive, please be alive, please be alive!_

"I have not yet checked the food preparation area, go carefully," She said, following her own advice and walking slowly and softly across the floor towards the room in question. Unnoticed by Sam, she had brought with her a small energy weapon of goa'uld design, which had been modified by the Tok'ra for stealth purposes. The small triangular device worked in a fashion similar to a zatnikatel, shooting out a beam of energy which stunned or killed depending on the setting. The small device was fitted with an attachment allowing the user to slip it onto two fingers, and as she palmed it, she kept all her heightened senses alert for any sign of Aaron or the kidnappers.

The sense of relief Sam felt at seeing his brother's throat whole and uncut was rivaled only by the joy he felt at Dean's groan as he untied the gag. The older Winchester's eyes fluttered open, and when they finally focused, they grew wide with surprise.

"Sammy!" Dean croaked, his throat almost too dry to talk. "The hell took you so long?"

Producing a knife, Sam quickly went to work on his brother's bonds. "It's Sam. And I had to run a few errands first, do some laundry, that kinda thing." They shared a grin.

"He is lying, Dean, we got here as quickly as we could." Sarai assured him in a whisper loud enough to be heard across the room.

Dean managed to get to his feet with Sam's help, but nearly lost his balance as he turned sharply at the young woman's comment. "You brought her along? On a hunt?"

"I didn't know it was a hunt! For all I know you decided have a private vacation with Aaron Buckley. It's not like you left a note saying "hunting evil, be back soon!"!" Sam glared at the older hunter, not noticing that in his irritation he had raised his voice. "And I tried telling her to stay put in the car, but she kind of does her own thing!"

Distracted by the bickering, Sarai had turned her back on the kitchen she had been about to explore, and was thus caught unaware by the approach of the possessed Aaron.

"Did someone say my name?"

The Winchesters turned as one, but they were unable to do anything to prevent the demon from grabbing hold of Sarai and bashing her head against the doorpost. Her apparently lifeless body sunk to the floor, as Sam reacted automatically and unloaded his shotgun into Aaron.

"This a big enough hint for ya?" Dean yelled, and ducked behind the chair which had recently been his place of residence. Aaron's eyes were completely black, and he didn't even wince as the rock salt peppered his chest. He gestured, and Sam's gun flew out of his hand, landing somewhere on the opposite side of the room.

"Wait, Aaron's the one who captured you?" Sam yelled, grabbing for his next weapon.

"Well we aren't planning on picking out curtains!" Dean ducked as one of the snowshoes was telekinetically thrown at his head from off of the wall.

"Excellent! With Sammy here, it will be even easier to frame him for your death!" The demon addressed Dean, the deep voice at odds with the pleasant expression on Aaron's face. "This may work out better than I thought."

"It's SAM!"

"Or not." Dean added smugly, as his little brother took out the flask of holy water and doused the fiend. The demon screamed and fell back, smoke coming from his body where the holy water had made contact.

Gathering himself, the demon roared in anger and charged Sam, grabbing him bodily and throwing him against a wall. Seeing the bag Sam had dropped on entering the room, Dean forced his exhausted body to make a dash for it. He upturned the bag and found the second flask of holy water just as the demon finished using Sam to trash a perfectly good bookcase.

"You know what your biggest mistake in all this was, bitch?" Dean said as he calmly waited for the demon to come within range.

The possessed Aaron saw only a half starved captive getting in one last pointless jibe before he died, and was unaware of the silver container in Dean's hand as he moved in closer for the kill, a cold grin of satisfaction on his face.

Flipping open the flask with his thumb, Dean threw the water directly into that smug face. "Messing with me and my brother." The demon howled and fell to the floor clutching his face as the holy water burned like acid.

Dean kicked the prone form, feeling a righteous sense of vengeance as he repaid a little of the pain he had received. He'd known all along he'd have the chance to kick the holy crap out of his tormentor, but admittedly he'd hoped it would have been a bit sooner in coming. The demon, despite being in intense pain, was cognizant enough to grab Dean's foot and pull him off balance. In his weakened state, Dean was no match for the iron grip of the possessed man, and he fell heavily, grazing his head on the end of a boot scraper which had sat unnoticed by the front door. Luckily the boot scraper was wood, carved in the shape of a squirrel so it had no sharp edges at its end, but Dean was knocked unconscious by the force of the fall.

The demon lay panting for a moment, gathering his strength to get up and deal with his unconscious victims. He stood up slowly, still smoking from the holy water, and turned around to find a knife with which to finish the job he'd started out to do. Only, as he did so, he found himself face to face with a very pissed off female alien.

"That was very painful." She said forcefully, the bloody mark on her forehead emphasizing her point. Her anger was palpable on her features, as well as clearly indicated by the small but obviously dangerous weapon she had pointed at him.

"I killed you." He said, genuinely puzzled and surprised. The demon was positive he had smashed the woman's head in hard enough to cause instant death. There was no way a human could have survived. "What-" He began, far more perplexed than fearful.

"We are here to stop you." The Tok'ra's voice was steady, and she wasted no more time on meaningless conversation. The device in her hand extended a small projection from one end of the triangle from which an energy bolt shot out, catching the demon squarely in the chest. The effect was instantaneous as the nervous system shut down completely and the possessed man collapsed onto the floor.

_R'kenoth, what is going on? What is wrong with Aaron Buckley? Why is he trying to kill Sam and Dean Winchester? _Sarai appeared calm outwardly, but inside she was afraid and confused, not to mention hurting from the violent assault.

//_I do not know, Sarai, but we shall do all we can to prevent harm to anyone until we have a better understanding of the situation.//_ R'kenoth replied firmly as she pocketed the small variation of a zatnikatel. The tok'ra symbiote was working as hard as she could to repair the head wound her host had received, but currently Sarai was running primarily on adrenaline. She looked around the room for something to restrain the unconscious man with, and noticed that Sam was coming around. "Sam, Aaron Buckley is unconscious, as is Dean. Are you uninjured?"

Sam pulled himself to his feet, surveying the damage. "Sarai? What happened? We thought you were-" He put a hand to his forehead, as if trying to physically push aside the headache there. "Never mind, you can explain later. Um…we need to tie up Aaron." He glanced around and caught sight of the climbing set huddled in the corner of the room, and wordlessly pointing it out to Sarai, he went over to check on Dean.

Dean slowly came back from his unanticipated nap, and was staring at the ceiling waiting for things to stop spinning when a shaggy haired monstrosity appeared in his line of vision. "Urgh." He muttered, and closed his eyes.

"Dean, are you okay? What happened?"

"Not now, finish the demon." Dean muttered, keeping his eyes closed. His head hurt too much to open them, and now that he knew Sam was up and around, they didn't need him. Wait, _"they"?_ Dean slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. He could've sworn that the demon had bashed Sarai's skull in, he had whacked her head against the wall so hard, but there she was, crouched next to Sam over the prone figure of Aaron. As he watched, Sam directed her to pour salt in a ring around the comatose man, and began to read the exorcism ritual from a book he'd pulled from somewhere.

Groaning, Dean hauled himself to his feet. "Okay, let's send this sonovabitch back to Hell and go get lunch, because I am _starving_. What time is it, anyway?"

Sam ignored him and continued reading the Latin incantation, but Sarai stared at him in confusion from her position on the floor next to Sam. "We- I- do not understand. What has happened? What happened to Aaron Buckley?" She started back in shock when the man in question began to shake and convulse from inside the ring of salt. As she watched with wide eyes, his eyes flew open and he began to scream, his mouth opening wider and wider. Suddenly a cloud of black smoke emerged, pouring out of Aaron in a seemingly endless torrent. Sarai immediately back-pedaled away from the smoke, scuttling backwards so hard she almost ran into Dean's legs.

_R'kenoth, that is the smoke I dreamed! _Sarai's mind-voice was panicked, and she was nearly hyperventilating at this newest shock to her system. Her whole body was shaking, and she closed her eyes tightly.

//_Sarai, calm down. Please, I cannot heal you as effectively if you go into shock. Everything will be explained in time. Trust me, everything shall be well._// The calming presence of the older tok'ra symbiote helped Sarai recover from the momentary numbness caused by her fear and panic, and she became aware of a concerned pair of eyes only inches away from her own.

"Hey, you alright?" Dean's greenish-hazel eyes examined her features, concern evident in his voice as he crouched down in front of her.

Sarai laughed at this, observing the scratches and bruises on his cheek, his cracked lips, and generally unkempt appearance. Dean shared a worried look with his brother. "Sarai, look at me, are you okay? We've taken care of Aaron, he's going to be fine. Just stay with us, we'll be out of here in a few minutes."

"You ask if I am okay, when it is you who we came to rescue!" The young woman began to laugh again, but then regained control as she realized that her behavior genuinely frightened these men she had come to trust and rely on.

Sam began to untie Aaron, who was still unconscious. The demon had thrashed against the bonds, causing abrasions on the man's wrists, but other than that he had emerged from his possession physically none the worse for the wear. That is, if you didn't count the wounds from the rock salt. Sam hissed in sympathy as he saw the many small red blossoms appear on Aaron's t-shirt. _That's gonna sting for a while. Sorry about that._ Whatever had knocked out the demon while Sam and Dean were out of commission had suitably disoriented it so that it Sam was able to finish the ritual and send the evil spirit back to Hell without too much trouble. As exorcisms went, this one had been fairly textbook, apart from the whole bit about having their asses handed to them in hand-to-hand.

The pain in his wrists roused Aaron, and slowly opened his eyes. "What-? Where-? Who-?" He stammered, not sure what question to ask first. Finally he settled for, "I'm not at home, am I."

"Um, no. What's the last thing you remember?" Sam helped the dazed man sit up.

Aaron looked around him in bemusement. "Am I at the cabin? What the hell happened? The last thing I remember was locking up and leaving the museum. Hey, I recognize you. You and your friends toured around." He looked around and saw Dean and Sarai staring at him from a few feet away. Both of them were also seated on the ground, Sarai because of the shock she had received, and Dean because it was too much of an effort to remain standing at the moment. Seeing that Aaron was conscious, and once again himself, Dean gave a minute nod of hello. Sarai made no gesture of acknowledgement, but continued to stare at him.

Sam was anxious to be done with this whole little escapade, now that he had Dean back and had gotten rid of the demon. Bringing Aaron's focus back to him, he made to help Aaron up. "Can you stand? My car is right outside. We'll take you back to town and drop you off at the hospital, or your uncle's, if you prefer."

"Excuse me? _Your _car?" Dean interjected indignantly, but Sam ignored the comment.

Aaron accepted the offered hand and pulled himself slowly to his feet. Having discovered the rock salt wounds in sitting up, he now discovered the full extent of the pain associated with them. Breathing hard, he managed to remain vertical and gestured for the company to head out the door. Still entirely at a loss as to understand how he had ended up in this place in such a condition, or what the trio from the museum was doing here, at the moment he hurt too much to be curious. "Uncle Clark's, please." He muttered, and was silent for the rest of the trip to the car, except for the occasional moan of pain.

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A/N: Woo! So there's the big action sequence I've been building up to. What did you think? Did it suck? Did it make sense? I'm not that great at them, so constructive criticism is much appreciated! 


	19. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen: **

"Congratulations! You lasted a good three days against the Winchester brothers! I must say, I was rather surprised you survived that long." The Yellow-Eyed demon spoke to his fellow evil fiend in the state of being akin to dreaming in Hell. They were standing in a room with no obvious walls or boundaries, and the area was lit by a sort of omnipresent orange-red fog. Both demons wore the images of previous hosts, so it appeared that a janitor addressed a red haired young man. A red haired young man with a hangover.

The form of Aaron Buckley shook his head in irritation. Hell was no picnic to begin with, but being forced from one's host en-route gave you one hell of a headache to top it all off. Pun fully intended. "What?" He replied shortly, irritated and confused.

His habitual smirk in place, the Yellow-Eyed demon came closer to the recently exorcised being. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but I've seen Wendigos come closer to doing any real damage to those brothers than you did in that last little exercise."

He paused for a moment. "A pun, I didn't even realize." Realizing he was drifting from his topic, he refocused his attention on the weaker demon. "Sorry, what was I saying? Oh yes: You are a pathetic excuse for a supernatural being of evil, but you do have your uses. I've been watching those brothers since our last encounter, and I must say I was surprised to see they had picked up a lovely little accessory."

In more pain now, as his essence began to fade from the dream state into the corporeal reality of Hell, the demon which had possessed Aaron frowned, holding his head in his hands. "Get to the point, _sir_." Everyone knew that to show disrespect to this particular denizen of the underworld was to ask for immediate destruction, but the humiliation was too much for the demon to bear with impunity at this stage.

"Well, you see, your bungled attempt to possess our dearly devoted Dean did reveal something quite interesting." The human-looking face grinned widely, the yellow eyes seeming to glow from the inside. "That girl is not quite human. I don't know what she is yet, but the fact that she survived your little love-tap tells us a great deal. I may have to take care of her before I can continue on with my plan." He nodded to himself. "So, in thanks for your service, unintended though it may be, I'll see to it that these four walls won't hold you for too much longer." Pleased with his turn of phrase although it had no bearing on the actual confines of Hell, Yellow-Eyes gave a last smile, waggled his fingers, and watched as Aaron was consumed by the full torments which awaited all the damned. "Mind you, I can't work miracles, so don't hold your breath."

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"He did what?" Sam hissed to his brother, glancing away from the road to try to read Dean's lips, as he slouched in the passenger seat. They were trying to speak quietly so the two in the back seat wouldn't be disturbed, but it was hard to hear considering they were still on the bumpy dirt road leading away from the cabin. Aaron was unconscious, or near to it, but Sarai was alert enough to be suspicious of the attempted conversation in the front seat.

Dean shot a look over his shoulder, and noticed Sarai's intent stare, but he resolutely turned away from her and leaned over to whisper to his brother, wincing at the pain the movement caused him. "He tried to possess me, but couldn't because of the amulet Bobby gave me."

Sam actually stopped the Impala in the middle of the dirt track. "Are you kidding me?" He said loudly, staring in disbelief at the disheveled older Winchester. "All of this because…." _He's a freaking moron?!_ He mouthed the last bit so only Dean would know what he said.

Dean grinned, ignoring the pain from his split lip. "Yup. Great isn't it." Sam just sat there, open mouthed. "Look, are you gonna drive or are you gonna give me the keys?"

Sam started up the car in silence, beginning to sulk. "These past three days I've been worried _sick_ about your sorry ass, and you go and get captured by the stupidest-"

"Why do you keep insulting Aaron? He is not unconscious at the moment. And you have not explained anything about what just happened." Sarai was not happy, nor was R'kenoth, although the tok'ra symbiote had developed more patience than her young host and was willing to wait until the human who lay next to them on the backseat was seen to by medical professionals. _// Sarai, I trust that they will reveal the truth about Dean's kidnapping in time, perhaps soon after we drop off Aaron. Pestering them about it now will not get the results we need.// _She advised.

Sam was startled by Sarai's interruption, but was glad for it, since he hadn't realized that he was no longer speaking quietly. "Um, right." _How are we going to explain this? Dean? Think of something!_

"Sarai, I promise, we'll tell you what happened. But now's not a great time, okay?" Dean said, twisting in the passenger seat to address her in the back seat.

Listening to the wisdom of her elder symbiote as well as Dean, Sarai nodded. Of course, Dean looked rather pathetic after his ordeal as well, which made it that much easier to just agree to his suggestions rather than argue.

"Hey Sam, you didn't happen to see a dry cleaner while you were out looking for me, did you? I really don't want to have to toss another jacket 'cause of blood stains."

"_Another" jacket lost because of blood stains?_ Sarai wondered to R'kenoth. _Maybe SG-1 was right; I'm beginning to think these two_ are _as dangerous as their reputation says._ The tok'ra did not answer, and Sarai huddled back into the seat, anxious for the story which would explain away all her anxieties.

With one last worried glance at his passengers, Sam turned his attention to driving, and the Impala pulled onto the main road leading back to Roswell. As he racked his brains trying to think of an explanation for black smoke and kidnappers who weren't, Sam lost himself in the familiar banter which had been painfully absent the last couple of days.

"No, Dean, I didn't see any dry cleaners. I saw sidewalk, a lot of sidewalk. Next time you go missing, leave the damn car."

"I'm letting you drive her, aren't I?" There was a pause, then: "Hey Sammy, I don't suppose you brought an extra pair of pants with you..."

"…I thought I smelled something-"

"Finish that sentence and you'll regret it."

"Man, getting kidnapped has really made your comebacks weak."

It was Dean's turn to sulk a bit. "I'm hungry. Once I've got some food in me, then you'll be in a heap of trouble. A big, wet, steaming heap of trouble."

"That's gross, Dean."

"You're…gross."

At a loss for how to respond to _that_ bit of wit, Sam only grinned and kept on driving. It was good to have his brother back.

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They pulled up in front of Mr. Mathers' house, which Sam had last scene in the early morning light what seemed an eternity ago, in reality it had only been two days. "Dean, you and Sarai stay in the car; I'll help Aaron in and tell them what happened."

"Since when do you start giving the orders?" Dean grunted, and pulled himself out of the car.

"Your appearance may startle Clark Mathers." Sarai reminded him.

He waved away her concern. "We were both kidnapped by the same nutcase. I got beat up; he got shot with rock salt. It'll add that much more to our story."

Still skeptical, Sarai followed as their party walked slowly up the driveway. Her wariness of the brothers had not dissipated, but she was willing to allow events to play out before she pressed the issue.

"So we're blaming this on a random psychopath?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows at his brother.

"Yup, that's the plan. I thought we'd keep it simple."

"So the footage of you leaving alone with Aaron at the bar that night says what?"

They had reached the porch by now, but Sam was supporting Aaron so Dean reached the door first. He turned and looked at his younger brother. "Sammy, I'm surprised at you. If I ever leave a bar with a man, something is definitely wrong."

Sam shrugged, a small grin crossing his features. "In our line of work, you can't rule anything out."

"Actually, your assumptions probably weren't far off." A quiet voice said from Sam's side. The Winchesters and Sarai turned to look at the injured young man. "I am, you know, gay. So…" Aaron trailed off and stared at the ground. "I try to ignore it, but, well-"

Before the situation could get any more awkward, Clark Mathers came to the door, attracted by all the commotion on his front porch. "Can I help-" His face lit up as he noticed Aaron, supported by Sam. "Aaron! Thank God you're alright. Come in, all of you." He quickly ushered them inside, and to Dean's great relief, offered them all sandwiches.

In between bites of sandwich and sips of Coke (Sam refused to let him have the beer Mathers offered) Dean explained how he and Aaron had been jumped outside the bar when they went outside for some air. He admitted to being a bit drunk, but insisted that there were several men who captured them and forced them into Aaron's car. He couldn't explain how the car had ended up miles away from the cabin, but suggested that maybe the kidnappers were "freakishly strong, maybe hyped up on PCP or something" and had somehow carried them the distance.

Mr. Mathers seemed to have no trouble believing that a gang of tripped out druggies had kidnapped his nephew and Dean to torture in the woods, he was mostly just glad to have Aaron back in relatively good shape. "Tell you the truth, I was afraid we'd have another Matthew Shepherd story." He finally admitted quietly, staring at the carpet intently. He glanced up once to smile faintly at Aaron. "It's not such a secret as you'd think, boy. Luckily we've come a ways since that time, even in towns like this one."

Aaron looked exhausted, physically and mentally, and only nodded weakly at this.

Sam could sympathize, having been possessed once, himself. "Mr. Mathers, we're very glad this story has a happy ending, but we need to get going ourselves. Aaron should be fine in a few days, but I think he's suffering from malnutrition as well as the other injuries the kidnappers gave him. I'd recommend taking him to the hospital as soon as possible."

"Of course."

"Aaron? It'll be okay. It'll all work out. Trust me." Sam looked intently at the red haired man slumped on the couch next to his brother. He waited until Aaron's eyes met his own, and then nodded when he saw that Aaron understood him. "Speaking of which, I think we should be getting Dean here checked out as well."

Mathers nodded, and stood up to see his guests out, as Sam unfolded his tall form from the chair and Dean pulled himself up off the couch with some assistance from Sarai. "I don't know how I can possibly thank you for bringing Aaron home safely."

Sam smiled graciously. "It was our pleasure, sir."

Dean grinned as well, though on his bruised face the effect was more like a grimace. "Believe me, I'm just as happy about it as you are." He waved slightly in farewell.

Sarai smiled and nodded, but said nothing. There was far more going on here than had thus far been discussed, and she would observe every detail until she had figured it out.

The brothers said nothing until they had got back into the car.

"We need to have a talk." R'kenoth was the first to break the silence. Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Yes, we do." Sam agreed.

"But not before I get a shower and a new pair of pants." Dean said firmly. "You've trusted us this far, Sarai, just give us another hour or two."

"Very well. But after that, explain, or I will get answers my own way."

Sam nodded, and started up the car. As they pulled away from the curb, he mouthed "_She gets scary_!" to Dean, who nodded emphatically in agreement. The brothers sensed that they were not the only ones with a story to tell.

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A/N: Just in case you were confused, in the first part where Yellow-Eyes is is talking with the Aaron demon, he made a pun with "exercise" and "exorcise" which he thought was mildly amusing. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and rest assured there are more on the way! 


	20. Chapter 18

A/N: I get into a little Stargate mythology in this chapter, but I think you can still get the gist of the story without having seen that show. More to come! Thanks for your reviews!

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Chapter Eighteen: 

One hour, a shower, and a clean pair of pants later, Sam and Dean were ready to talk. R'kenoth was ready to listen, but Sarai by this time was mostly just anxious to have her fears relieved. She privately admitted to the tok'ra inside her that she feared the explanation of the recent goings-on would make the situation worse than it already was.

Sam tried to begin, clearing his throat a few times, but it was Dean who started into the explanation first. "Remember at the Air Force Base when we thought you were possessed by a demon? Well, that's what actually happened to Aaron." Sam restrained himself from a face-palm.

A brief expression of amusement flit across Sarai's face before R'kenoth resumed control, and her eyes flashed both with irritation and a result of switching the dominant conscious. "You thought there was a _demon_, existing as a cloud of black smoke, inhabiting me?" R'kenoth said in cold disbelief.

Smiling weakly, Sam tried to think of a way to rectify Dean's tactless introduction. "Um, yes, but its a little more complex than that. It's not what it sounds like."

"When I said I wanted an explanation, I thought you would have the courtesy to at least feed me a believable fiction." The tok'ra replied.

"Sarai, we're telling you the truth. You know those stories and legends about ghosts, spirits, and monsters under the bed? They're not just stories." Dean said with a deadly serious expression on his face.

Sam gave up trying to direct the conversation to safer ground. Might as well do it Dean's way at this point. "Most of the legends are based on facts, facts which we come in and deal with. Demons are only one of the evil creatures which are out there Sarai, and these things can't be explained away by science; they're by definition 'supernatural.'"

"And we hunt them." Dean finished simply. The brothers waited in silence for Sarai's response. She knew about their past from the Air Force's background check, this was only confirmation of a reality that most people considered impossible.

R'kenoth and Sarai consulted privately for a moment. //_Primitive superstitions, Sarai, like the idea of magic. If one looks closely, at a basic level nothing is beyond science. Sg-1 and those in the Stargate program have come to realize this for themselves._//

_If it were only Dean telling us this, I would suspect him of some kind of joke, but Sam does not seem to be the joking type about matters of this magnitude. If his body and mind were possessed by another consciousness, it would explain why Aaron Buckley acted so oddly. He did kidnap Dean, we have seen that for ourselves, and he resisted capture until after the black smoke was expelled. Afterward, he seemed to be perfectly willing to come with us. _Sarai protested. Despite having many of her peoples' superstitions disproved by the Tok'ra, she was still willing to believe that there might be something in the universe which was truly beyond the scope of understanding. The thought of actually coming in contact with one of these beings frightened her, but at the same time it piqued her interest. The Taur'i were a new species to study themselves, but to be able to learn about a group of creatures who existed outside the natural world? That would be truly amazing.

//_There is no evidence to prove that this is anything other than a phenomenon not fully studied and understood. It is said that the Ascended beings appear in non-corporeal form, and I have heard reports that Anubis himself has been known to appear as black smoke in between hosts._// R'kenoth paused. //_I do not think that there is any connection between the two events, but perhaps it warrants further investigation…_//

"Why did Aaron act as he did towards Dean?" R'kenoth asked, after what seemed to Dean and Sam a lengthy pause.

"Because we've made some enemies hunting evil things, and the demon wanted to hurt our family." Sam answered, looking at his brother for confirmation. Dean nodded. It was as good an explanation as any at this point. Later he would tell Sam what the demon had told him the plan was, but Sarai didn't need to know all of that.

Sarai was silent for another moment. "If I am to accept this truth, that 'evil spirits' exist and that you 'hunt' them, I would like to know a few more details. What are these demons? Where do they come from, what happens to the humans they possess? Also, how did you come to know about them, and what do you do that destroys them, or sends them back to their point of origin?"

Furrowing his brow, Sam figured he might as well try to answer her questions. "It's kind of complicated…"

Dean sighed and relaxed back onto the bed. To say he was in pain was to make a generous understatement. "Ouch." He muttered. It felt good to just lay there, despite the aches and pains, but Dean couldn't fully let go and relax yet, there were still several things to be addressed before he could pass out and let his body heal. "Sam," Dean interrupted their discussion of the theory behind exorcism rituals, and his brother turned to look at him.

"You know what this means: we can't just ignore what's going on out there. I think our vacation is over."

Sam had to agree. He knew what Dean was leading up to, and it reminded him once again that for all his apparent disregard for anyone who wasn't family, the older hunter cared deeply about the innocent people around him. "Sarai, Dean's right. We tried to do what the Air Force asked, but our lives are too dangerous to let you get involved. Tell your people what happened, edit it if you want, and ask them where we can drop you off." They would really miss that bonus, but it wouldn't do them any good if they weren't alive and free to spend it. …Still, it would have been nice to have some real money that wasn't the result of a card game or bet…

R'kenoth silently agreed with the Winchesters. //_I am intrigued by their misplaced beliefs, as you are Sarai, but I think the best course of action is to return to the SGC and find a different method by which to study taur'i society and this "supernatural" activity._//

_They truly would just dump me off somewhere? _Sarai felt almost betrayed. Besides the members of SG-1 and the leaders of the Stargate program who she'd met while finalizing the exchange project, these two men were the only taur'i she knew, and she had come to feel a personal connection with them. Traveling with them had taught her much about the habits of taur'i, and she had learned much about their culture. It showed the promise, in her and R'kenoth's estimation, of some day developing to great advancements for the good of the galaxy. But now, their willingness to simply abandon her, a visitor to their country, after a small incident and without any other warning was an indication of the rudeness and primitive behavior which some of the older tok'ra had told her was only to be expected from the still developing species. In short, Sarai was disappointed, her high opinion of these aliens having fallen a great deal.

//_Sarai, they are not being rude, they are being prudent._// The symbiote tried to pacify her host. R'kenoth realized that the boys had their best interests at heart as well as her own. If Sarai were to be injured while in their care, the Air Force surely would not be pleased.

"I'm sorry, but you will not get rid of me just like that." Sarai, once more in control of her body, refused to be calmed down by the tok'ra's logic. "The orders Samantha Carter gave you included the mandate to trust my judgment of situations. The encounter with the 'possessed' Aaron was not beyond my abilities."

"Sarai, he bashed your head into a wall!" And now that he thought of it, that blow was far too hard for her to have recovered as quickly as she had… Sam's suspicions raised, he looked quickly at her head, where the wound was bandaged. He knew she had cleaned up in the bathroom when they first returned to the motel room, but the gauze he had placed on the wound afterward showed no signs of being saturated with blood. In Sam's experience, head wounds bled profusely, but this one apparently had passed that stage already.

"I was caught off guard, next time I will be more aware of what we are going up against." Having lost some of the formality of the language, Sarai tried to speak the human tongue like a native, but she was more concerned about not being sent back to the SGC than anything else at the present time, and slipped in and out of the vernacular.

"There won't be a next time." Despite his injuries, Dean sat up quickly on the bed, and fixed a penetrating glance at his female counterpart on the other bed. "Nothing personal, but we've worked in three man teams before, and it ain't happening again. It just doesn't work."

"If it were not for me, you guys probably would've been killed when Aaron was attacking us." Sarai protested, ignoring the tok'ra inside her who tried to warn her young host against drawing attention to the details of that fight. If it hadn't been for Sarai's already alien physiology which gave her strong bones and the healing advantages of being host to a Tok'ra, the head injury they received would have been fatal. //_Sarai, please, ending this excursion here is for the best._//

But, as another alien race once said, "the very young do not always do as they are told," and Sarai continued. "I could be of great help to you guys."

Dean and Sam instantly thought back to their encounter with the demon, and realized that she was actually right, there had been a moment when they were both unconscious and vulnerable, but… "Dean, what happened before you were knocked out? I thought you took care of the demon, and then passed out right after." Sam said slowly, putting the pieces together. It had all happened so fast, and afterwards he had just wanted to get Dean out of there.

His brother frowned. "No, he was still kicking when I ate it." They both looked at Sarai.

"What did you do?" Sam asked warily. Even after two weeks of traveling with her, the girl was a complete mystery. So many things didn't seem to add up about her.

"I am willing to negotiate a deal." She stated in reply.

The Winchesters exchanged glances. Dean cleared his throat. "You know what? Tomorrow we'll stop by the nearest Air Force base." He didn't respond well to threats of any kind, and Sarai's desire to "deal" felt an awful lot like coercion. He was ready to be done with the walking enigma which currently shared his hotel room. Sam, reasonable in most situations, felt that any information they got out of Sarai would be more trouble than it was worth. Following his brother's lead, Sam ignored her offer, and stretched in the chair he occupied before responding. "You did get a head wound, Sarai, so I'll be waking you up every couple of hours just as a precaution. You too, Dean, I don't want to have to deal with a concussion from anybody."

Dean grunted a reply, and within moments had fallen asleep. It had been difficult to get any type of decent rest while hanging from a rafter, but now, on a soft bed with plenty of Tylenol in his system, Dean slept a deep and dreamless healing sleep.

Sarai would have continued to contest the Winchesters' decision, but R'kenoth shut her up. Among the Tok'ra it was a serious breach of etiquette to forcibly take control of one's host, but in emergency situations it could occur. R'kenoth considered the situation suitably urgent, and took control with only a brief eye flash to show the Sarai had not fallen silent of her own accord.

Although he wasn't looking at her when the switch occurred, Sam noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and turned back to her quickly. "You know, Sarai, I'm kind of concerned about your head injury. I think I should take another look at it." He said, his demeanor broadcasting sincere worry.

R'kenoth raised her hand to touch the bandage on her forehead. She knew that to refuse would only raise more suspicion, but the accelerated healing ability which allowed her to heal Sarai of a bullet wound would have already begun to work on this recent injury as well. The effect was not instantaneous, however, and perhaps the healing would be too subtle to notice at this stage. "Very well. Should we not move to the restroom to provide Dean with an uninterrupted rest?"

"He's all the way out, I don't think we'd disturb him, but I can probably see better in the bathroom." Sam agreed. As he followed her in, he had a sense of déjà vu, from that night she had fallen and scraped her arm. Was it really only two nights ago? It seemed like weeks. He glanced at her arm, subtly, as she carefully removed the bandage. _It _was_ just two days ago. I'm sure of it._ He thought, puzzled. The scrape looked like it was nearly done healing, the scab nearly ready to come off.

In order to distract some of Sam's attention away from what signs there were of quick healing, R'kenoth began to talk about the brothers' plans after they dropped Sarai off. "After Dean heals, are you going to return to that bar and grill where he was kidnapped from?" She asked, trying to get him to respond.

It worked. "What? Oh, the Bludgeoned Badger? Yeah, I promised A.J. and Stuart we'd come back and help them out." Sam had to smile at the name the two older men had given their watering hole. Truth be told, he had almost forgotten about that promise, in his anxiety to find his brother and keep Sarai out of trouble. "Wait till Dean finds out they knew Dad!" Although sidetracked by the question, he didn't forget why he had come into the bathroom with Sarai. He checked her head where it had struck the door frame, and though there was a good amount of dried blood and bruising, but he really couldn't tell how bad the injury was. And that alone worried him. "Sarai, do you feel dizzy or anything? I'm amazed at your recovery, I have to say. It looked like he really did some damage." _You should be dead!_ He thought.

"It hurts a great deal, Sam, but I'll be fine. My people have strong bones." She smiled reassuringly.

"Are you sure?" There was some hair matted around the wound, and he leaned in closer to examine it. "Maybe I can clean it up a little more, make sure there's nothing in there that can cause infection." Sam suggested, his mind going a mile a minute. _Her people? Since when did Eastern Europeans have "strong bones" or even just a decent health care system?_

Sarai grimaced. "I'm afraid that would cause it to start bleeding, again Sam, perhaps tomorrow we can go to the hospital and have it checked out." She bluffed, counting on the Winchesters' dislike of hospitals and official paperwork to keep her away from machines capable of detecting her alien physiology.

At the word "hospital" Sam instantly changed the subject. In his experience, hospitals meant death, and that was an association he wanted to avoid at all costs right now. Instead, he gave a small smile. "Well, you seem to be doing okay with it, doesn't seem to be too bad. Guess I'm just a little overly cautious sometimes."

"It's no problem." Sarai replied utilizing some of the slang she'd picked up, and gathered the supplies she needed from their first aid kit to make a new bandage.

Sam returned to the main room, and as he turned away from Sarai his face lost the sympathetic look it had worn, and instead took on a preoccupied expression as he tried to work out what had just been revealed. Not only was the girl's arm nearly healed up, her head wound should have been life-threatening, but there she was, acting like it was just a little bump she'd gotten from neglecting to duck at a low ceiling overhang.

He thoughtfully took out his laptop and set it up on the small table provided by the motel. Maybe Dean was right, and there was something …other…about this girl. After a minute spent in thought, he began to type out the strange things they'd noticed about her. First, the eye-flash back at the gas station. That had never been adequately explained. A trick of the light? Maybe. Then there were the odd pauses which had punctuated her speech when they first began their trip. Sam had chalked it up to her being unfamiliar with English, but they still occurred, weeks later, when she was familiar enough with the language to use common slang. _Come on, Sam. That's a weak reason for suspecting her, and you know it._ Also, it seemed as though she had some dramatic mood shifts, almost as though she had several distinct personalities…schizophrenia? Shaking his head, he moved on to the most pressing question. How in Hell had she managed to survive their little showdown with the possessed Aaron, and not only recover quickly from a _severe_ blow to the head, but had somehow managed to knock the demon unconscious? He ran a hand absently through his hair.

"You know you look stupid when you do that, right?" Said a quiet voice from behind him.

He twisted in his seat. "Dean? I thought you were asleep."

The older Winchester propped a pillow behind his head so he could look at his brother without actually getting into a sitting position. "Nah, I'll sleep later. Sarai's still in the bathroom, and we need to talk."

"No kidding."

Dean opened his mouth to begin, but caught sight of a fast food bag on the low dresser and got distracted. "Hey, is there anything left in there?"

"Dude, that's been sitting there for three days."

"And?" Dean waited a moment, and then _looked_ at his little brother when he failed to make a move. "I'm injured here, get it for me."

Sam reached out an arm and grabbed the bag, still seated. He tossed it on the bed, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "There ya go."

Wounded though he was, Sam's brother was already tucking into the remains of French fries and a cheeseburger, but he muttered what could have been a thank you. He then, in between bites, proceeded to explain how he had been captured, and what the demon had said in regards to Ol' Yellow-Eyes and the Big Plan. "I'm telling you Sammy, this dude couldn't find his ass with both hands and a road map. The fact that he managed to drug me is making me embarrassed. I can only _imagine_ how bad I'd feel if he'd actually managed to kill me." Crumpling up the garbage with fingers that were still getting used to the sensation of blood circulating through them again, Dean threw the trash in what he thought was the approximate direction of the trash can.

It was caught by Sarai, standing in the bathroom doorway. To be more precise, R'kenoth caught it, as she still doubted the ability of her young host to be rational about their future travels with the Winchesters. "This "Yellow-Eyes" you have spoken of, he is the primary enemy of your family?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "Shit." The look said. Just in case anyone missed it, Dean swore out loud, albeit in a low voice. "Sarai, drop it, okay? No offense, but it's really not your business."

R'kenoth ignored the brusque reply. "And it too is a "demon" like the black smoke which emerged from Aaron, is that not so?"

"Yeah," Sam muttered, ignoring the sharp glare Dean threw at him. The younger Winchester had to admit he was intrigued to know where Sarai was going with her line of questioning. He blamed his pre-law background.

The tok'ra moved in for the killing blow. "Then I believe I have knowledge which may assist you in defeating this being." She said, a self-satisfied smile on her face. While in the bathroom replacing the bandage, Sarai and R'kenoth had been discussing this idea which had occurred to them since the initial revelation of what the brothers Winchester referred to as "demons." Anubis had possessed people, had traveled between hosts as a non-corporeal cloud, and had what appeared to be supernatural powers. These so-called demons were surely not half-ascended beings, but if their physicality was similar, with access to the tok'ra and Stargate Command records of the encounters with Anubis to examine, surely a technology could be adapted to rid Earth of the creatures. R'kenoth's scientific interest had won out over her more cautious instincts, and inspire by Sarai's thirst for adventure, the tok'ra had agreed to her host's schemes. Once again, they were bluffing, although they did have something substantial to work with than just a fear of hospitals this time.

"Two minutes ago you said you didn't believe in demons and that stuff, and now all of a sudden you've changed your mind and have some kind of secret knowledge of them? Not buying it." Sam said incredulously.

"She's just joking. You are joking, right? Because seriously, you're way out of your depth here." Dean added, looking for some explanation for Sarai's bizarre statement.

"In exchange for this information, all I require is that you let me continue traveling with you for the next three days. After that, you can take me to the nearest Air Force base." Knowing their leverage was not that great, R'kenoth and Sarai had decided that bargaining for more time was their best bet.

"We've already talked about this," Dean began, but his brother cut him off.

"Two days, no more."

"Agreed. After two days, I will tell you what I know, and you may leave us." And with that statement, Sarai withdrew back into the restroom, closing the door after her.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?"

"Don't give me that, Dean. When we were out looking for you, she was actually a fairly useful person to have along. Two days isn't bad, and she might actually know something." He shrugged. "Besides, We're not going anywhere for a few days until you recover."

"I'm fine. We can leave today, it's no problem." Dean had had quite enough of the charming town of Roswell, NM, thank you very much.

Sam scratched the back of his head. "Ah, actually, it's not just that. I promised these guys we'd help them out with a little problem their having."

"Aww, don't tell me you signed us up for some "mission of mercy" thing. What are we, the Salvation Army?"

"These guys helped us when we were out looking for your sorry ass, they own a bar and-"

"They own a bar? Sam! While you're sitting there yammering at me, there are two hard-working, honest, productive citizens out there in grave danger. Let's go." Inspired by the word "bar" Dean was all gung-ho, and Sam had to smile at his enthusiasm. That or punch him in the face. His brother could be like that.

"Chill, dude. We can check it out tomorrow."

"Fine, fine. Are you serious about letting Sarai tag along? Do we even know what their "problem" is?"

"It's probably some loose shingles or something, don't worry about it." Sam shut his laptop, and decided to follow his own advice. Time to set up that cot.

"'Don't worry about it.'" Dean mimicked. "Why on earth would I be worried about dragging some ignorant girl along with us on whatever crazy adventure you signed us up for? Remember what happened with Jo? And she _knew_ what she was doing! For the most part."

"If it was something supernatural, I'm sure they would've told me." _I hope._ Sam's confidence was more in the "pretty sure" category rather than the "really pretty sure" one, but he didn't tell that to his brother. Casting a look at the bathroom door, which remained closed, Sam set about getting the cot arranged.

By the time Sam had fixed up his bedding, Sarai had come out of the bathroom and gotten into the free bed without saying a word to either of them. She had a lot to think about, and was still a bit angry at the Winchesters for wanting to drop her like a lit piece of TNT. (She had watched a few too many of the old Bugs Bunny cartoons, much to R'kenoth's irritation.)

Sam didn't want to bring any more of their dirty laundry out in front of their guest, but after Sarai had been asleep some time, he caught Dean's eye. "They knew Dad, Dean. They said they knew Mom too." Sam said quietly, after he had turned off the lights and gotten into bed. Sarai was breathing deeply and regularly in her bed, and Sam couldn't hold onto the secret any longer.

Although tired, his bruises didn't necessarily provide for a long, unbroken night's sleep. Even so, at Sam's words Dean came wide awake. "Mom?" He said after a pause, his voice rough.

"Yeah."

"What the hell were they doing way out here?"

"I guess we can ask A.J. and Stuart tomorrow."

"Dad hung out with guys named A.J. and Stuart? Are we sure they're not aliens who brainwashed him or something?" Dean teased his brother.

Sam rolled over, facing away from his irritating sibling. "Goodnight, Dean."

Although she appeared to be deep asleep, Sarai and R'kenoth heard every word that passed between the brothers. _Reken, what do you think they would do if we told them that I am an alien? Or if we told them about you?_

//_I am in no hurry to find out, Sarai, believe __me._// R'kenoth's mind-voice was serious, but then she paused for a moment. //_However, I would pay a great deal of money to see their faces at that moment._// She added, a note of amusement now present.

Sarai grinned. _Me too._


	21. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Thanks for sticking with me, sorry it's so long between updates, I'll try to remedy that. Enjoy! **  
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**Chapter 19: **

Out of deference to Dean's less than optimal condition, Sam let them sleep in until 8:00 the next morning. He even went and got breakfast for them. "Morning!" He called cheerily, setting the bag of donuts down on the low dresser.

"C'mon, I thought we were passed this whole "rise and shine" thing." Dean grumbled, turning away from the brightness as Sam flicked on the light switch.

Sarai was already up and packed. "What's the first step, Sam? Are we going to search the world wide web for information regarding the bar?"

Sitting up-right, Dean shot a sharp glance at the young woman. "Where'd you get that idea?" He turned to his younger brother. "Sam?"

Raising his hands in the air, Sam gestured as best he could with both hands full of coffee. "Don't look at me."

Sarai sighed, and grabbed a donut from the bag. "I've been on your computer, Sam, I saw your browsing history. I also cleared up a couple of viruses for you."

"What? How?" Sam put down the coffee, now irritated. "You messed with my computer? Sarai, that's not okay. I said you could look at some websites, not screw up my programs! Maybe if you had _asked _whether I wanted it updated-"

"Woah, woah. Calm down, man." Dean stopped his brother before he could build up steam for the angry tirade the older hunter sensed coming. "We're getting' rid of her tomorrow, remember?" He couldn't help but take some pleasure in his brother's discomfort, after all, it was Sam who had said she could tag along with them today. "Besides, she said she cleared some bugs for you."

Sarai nodded, mouth full of donut. Sam angrily grabbed his coffee and went to examine just what precisely she had done to his precious PC.

Fifteen minutes later they were on the road to the Bludgeoned Badger Sports Bar and Grill. Sarai was familiar with the Earth animal she had seen depicted on the sign in front of the bar the last time they were here, but one question did nag her. Sam was still irritated at her, although he had discovered that along with clearing up his viruses she had also somehow gave him 512 Mb of more space on his hard drive, so she addressed his brother instead. "Dean, I have read about badgers, but there's one thing I don't understand about the name of this bar."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean glanced back at her in the rear view mirror. They were almost out of the downtown area, and only a few minutes from the bar, so he didn't feel the need to rush. Nor did he feel the need to crane his neck around, since his shoulders were still aching from being strung up.

"I did not think that badgers were to be found this far South."

There was a moment of silence in the car. "I honestly would not have thought to ask about that." Dean said, his voice colored by wonder. He had no idea how this girl's mind worked, she was completely unlike anyone he'd met before. "The Bludgeoned Badger" was just a name, why bother asking about it….? And, now it was gonna drive him crazy. "Hey, Sam, where do badgers live?"

Sam had been trying to ignore the conversation, thinking about the job they were about to do, and how he had a funny feeling it wasn't going to be a roofing job. "What? Dean, did you just ask me about badgers?"

"Yeah, where do they live? You're supposed to be my go-to guy for random information." Dean had a good feeling about the day. He'd had donuts for breakfast. Driving kept his mind off his aches and pains, and tomorrow he and Sammy would be free of the inquisitive girl in the back seat.

"Dude, I'm not the one who can think of a movie quote, reference, or character and actor for every single weird situation we get into." Sam shot back. "Why are you talking about badgers?"

"She started it." Dean pointed behind him. "Now I'm curious."

"I don't know, Wisconsin?" Sam didn't want to admit it, but now he was wondering as well. He pulled out his laptop, wondering if there was any wireless internet on the outskirts of town.

"So why is a bar in this state, New Mexico, named for a northern mammal?" R'kenoth asked, for she was the one who had an interest in the flora and fauna of this world as much as the society of its most developed species._Maybe they just liked the way the name sounded._ Sarai opined, with the mental equivalent of a shrug.

"Maybe they just liked the alliteration." Sam said, echoing Sarai's silent comment.

"Perhaps." R'kenoth replied to both her host and the young hunter's statement. "I believe I will ask Stuart or A.J. when we get to their establishment."

Having called ahead, when the black Chevy pulled into the empty parking lot both of the owners came out to greet the Winchesters and their companion.

"Dean! Good to see you, we're very glad Sam was able to find you in good time. He was very worried about you!"

Dean gave a nod. "Thanks for helping him out, sir." His dad had trained him to be respectful of his elders when the situation warranted, and he decided this counted. He shook hands with both A.J. and Stuart, and they led the way inside. The lights were off and the tables were stacked high with chairs, but they switched on the bar lights and gathered there. "So, Sam mentioned you had a project for us?"

"Yes, a job." A.J. looked significantly at Sarai. "Work like your Dad did after your mom…." He stopped.

"Its okay, A.J." Sam reassured the bar co-owner. "She knows what we do."

The man frowned, and ran a hand over his balding head. "Well, I suppose if she's okay with all of that… it's not anything real big."

"We've just been having some trouble in the kitchen," Stuart explained. "Things going missing, bad smells-"

"And that's just Stuart. When he leaves the kitchen, really weird things happen." A.J. couldn't resist the shot at his brother. He may be well over the hill, heck he was practically up the mountain, but that didn't mean he had to be mature about it.

"Would this have anything to do with the rumors of this place being closed down by the County Health Commission?" R'kenoth had been edged to the back of the group by Dean and Sam's broad forms, but now she wedged her way closer to the bar. "I recall the girl who told us of this place thought that you were no longer in business because of a death."

Stuart and A.J. exchanged glances. "I said rumors would get out." The older of the two finally said. His brother sighed heavily.

In the silence, Dean and Sam held a quick, whispered conference over Sarai's head. "Poltergeist or ghost?" Dean asked.

"Ghost." Sam replied immediately. "Salt and burn or purifying ritual?"

"Depends. If they know who died we'll just torch the sucker, otherwise we'll have to round up the ingredients and then we can do the ritual."

"I suppose you'd like to hear the whole story." A.J. lifted his head and addressed the hunters and Sarai. "It happened a few months back, but the….ghost…has only become a nuisance in the last few weeks."

Stuart sat down on a bar stool, and leaned his head on a calloused hand as his brother told the tale.

He had just opened his mouth to begin, when Sarai raised a hand to interject. R'kenoth didn't see it coming, otherwise she would've stopped Sarai from interrupting the man, but the young alien woman saw an opening and went for it. "Excuse me, but why is your bar named after a mammal found in Wisconsin?"

Stuart stared at her for a moment, and then began to laugh and laugh. Everyone stared at him. "I'm sorry, miss, it's just no one's ever asked me point blank like that about our mascot." He coughed, and wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. "Actually, there are badgers in northern Mexico and we see a few in this area of the United States. But we named our bar the day the Wisconsin Badgers had their asses handed to them in the 1960 Rose Bowl."

The Winchesters and Sarai stared at him blankly.

"You know, football? Washington beat them 44 to 8." A.J. said sadly.

"We'd just come from Wisconsin, so we had some pride in the team, but after that defeat, well, we were ashamed to wear red and white. So we named our bar after the mascot, and swore to always remember that pride cometh before a fall." Stuart finished, his wrinkled face solemn.

There was another moment of silence. "Come on, you guys can't be serious-" Dean finally broke in.

The owners of "The Bludgeoned Badger" roared with laughter. "You believed every word of that, didn't you!" Stuart gasped.

"Aw," Dean groaned. "I knew you guys were just messing with us."

A smile broke across Sam's face, and years dropped away from his appearance. "They had you Dean. I was just waiting to see how long it took you to get it."

"You were "had" as well, Sam. I observed you closely, since I had no idea what they were talking about." Sarai put in. She was still confused, but seeing the brothers relax made her feel good as well.

"Actually, we just thought the name sounded good." A.J. stated after the laughter had died away. "But, back to the story of the so-called 'food poisoning incident.'"

"We met a local girl who said you guys had been closed down because of what happened, but seems like you're still going strong."

Stuart picked up the tale. "We only heard what happened after the fact, but it resulted in a man's death, and that kind of publicity only brings trouble."

Staying silent in the background, Sarai and R'kenoth observed everything intensely, and saw the ease and familiarity with which the Winchesters began their investigation. Sam and Dean set their duffle bag on the bar, and quickly rummaged through it to get their equipment.

"So, where'd this guy die?" Dean asked casually as he pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and loaded it.

"Well, see, technically he died at a hospital," A.J. began, but his brother interrupted him.

"In the kitchen was where the fight took place." He gestured for the Winchesters follow him, and he told the story as they made their way to the limited kitchen facilities tucked away in a room behind the bar. "It was all a misunderstanding, really. This guy thought he'd get a little friendly with this girl-"

Dean grinned a little at this. "Was she hot?" His younger brother threw him a withering glance, which Dean of course ignored.

The bar owner stopped suddenly, fixing Dean with a stern gaze. "That's my daughter you're talkin' about." Stuart said sharply, but before Dean's apology could leave his mouth, the man's eyes softened. "And she was a looker." He added proudly.

Sam exchanged looks with his brother. "What happened?" He asked gently.

"Well, from what we heard of the incident, since we weren't actually there, Nancy's admirer got into it with her boyfriend at the time."

"It was an accident, completely unintentional." A.J. put in, but before they could continue story, a new figure entered their midst.

Where nothing before had existed, a man suddenly appeared standing in the middle of the kitchen, covered in blood.

"Get down!" Dean yelled, and brought his shotgun to bear on the apparition.

Stuart and A.J. pressed themselves to the sides of the entranceway in which their group had stopped, and Sam pushed Sarai to the ground behind him when she didn't respond to Dean's command.

The older hunter fired, and the ghost disappeared in a spray of rock-salt. Satisfied his brother had the ghost under control, Sam turned to the bar's owners, though he kept his own shotgun at the ready in case the spirit immediately reappeared. "How often does he appear?" He asked urgently.

The two men were silent for a moment, but then the younger of the two spoke up. "This is the first time we've seen him." A.J.'s voice trembled, but he pulled himself together. "Usually we just hear noises, or a pan or two flies across the room."

"Must be the girl," Commented Stuart as he stepped away from the wall, gaining confidence now that he'd seen how easily Dean had taken care of the ghost. "She does look kind of like Nancy. They both have brown hair of the same length, and I guess they're both the same height." He sounded doubtful.

"Spirits don't always get it right." Dean assured him, "I think you're on the right track."

Satisfied they were safe for the time being, Sam ushered the rest of their party fully into the kitchen. "If you don't mind my asking, sir, what exactly happened to your daughter?"

Waving a hand to dismiss Sam's concern of propriety, Stuart fielded the question calmly. "Not to worry. She died in a car accident many years ago, same as her mother."

While Sam was asking about Nancy, Dean had gone to examine the spot where the dead man had appeared. "Did you guys have to get a new floor after that guy made a mess in here? It looked like he was covered in blood." He glanced up at A.J. "You gotta admit, it'd be a little unhygienic, even for a grill kitchen like this one." The older man nodded.

"What- What was that?" A voice called. Sarai, nearly forgotten in the adrenaline rush created by the spirit's presence, stood in the kitchen doorway. Dean straightened up from his crouch, and Sam, along with the bar owners turned to face her. The young woman's face was pale, but her eyes seemed to blaze with an inner light, and her voice didn't tremble as she asked, "Why did it disintegrate when shot? It seemed corporeal, yet faded away with no residue at all. There was no black smoke, so you would not term this a "demon" then, yes?" Her tone demanded answers.

A.J. turned to Sam sharply. "You said she knew about your work!"

As his brother winced, Dean stepped in. "It's kinda complicated. Sarai, that was a ghost. And now we'll show you how to destroy it." He turned to Stuart. "We'll need the name of this guy, and the cemetery where he was buried." Nearly forgetting what he'd been talking about before Sarai's interruption, he added "and what you did with the bloody parts of your kitchen when you replaced it."

Although she acknowledged Dean's comments, Sarai and R'kenoth were far from satisfied with what could hardly be called an explanation. //_It is possible that they themselves do not know the full reason behind their actions. Their methods seem to have the flair of folk-remedies, albeit effective ones._//

_I do not understand Dean's comment, has he not already destroyed the "spirit"? _Sarai asked her symbiote, choosing a small portion of her questions to give mental voice to. //_I believe we will soon find out.//_ The tok'ra spoke to her host as the Winchesters gathered their gear and gained the necessary information from their current employers, and Sarai followed them out to the car, only vaguely listening as the hunters discussed the possibility of the spirit being tied to blood-stained linoleum and "how much of a bitch" it would be to find and burn the pieces if that were indeed the case.

_Reken, the people of my homeworld believed in ghosts, and that the spirits of the departed could linger on this plane for sometime before departing, but the tok'ra say this is not so. Sam told me that the people of this world have a similar superstition, but that it too has been explained away by learned figures. How then, do you explain the phenomena we observed in that kitchen?_ Sarai slid silently into the back seat of the Impala, despite her distraction taking time to notice once more the well-kept interior of such a gorgeous vehicle. Before R'kenoth could reply, Sarai had to emerge from her internal conversation to respond to Sam's call. Evidently it wasn't the first time he'd said her name.

"Sarai, are you alright? You haven't said a word since the kitchen." Sam twisted in his seat to look at her. "I keep expecting a barrage of questions, and the silence is kind of unnerving me." His smile took any bite out of the words and revealed his concern.

Absently, she smiled in return. R'kenoth was giving her an explanation for the apparition. //_There has been some research done on the concept of an individual's electromagnetic shadow which remains behind after the being's death. It is a primarily speculative theory, but it is not inconceivable that after death an after-effect remains in the visible spectrum when the conditions are right, and appear as the person did in life, going through the same motions, though there is no consciousness of any sort present. Humans as a race give off an enormous amount of energy, and in times of emotional distress this is magnified. Perhaps what we saw was only residual energy…_// R'kenoth could not be sure if it was her host or herself who she was trying to convince of the possibility of a scientific explanation for the "ghost" they had all observed.

"I'm good, Sam, no problems here." Sarai finally responded, trying to sound as normal as possible. "I'm kinda tired by all the excitement, just let me know when we get to our destination, okay?" It was time for some hard-core brainstorming, to put into practice further vernacular words she'd picked up, and Sarai curled up in the back seat to discuss with R'kenoth the full implications of what they had seen, and what this meant in terms of their continuing journey with the Winchesters.

"Dude, she is taking this way too calmly." Dean craned his neck to look at their silent passenger, who appeared to be taking a nap. "After that demon thing, she kept pestering us for information, and she's been trading geek-talk with you for weeks now!"

Sam raised his hands in a gesture of ignorance. "Don't ask me, you saw how she barely heard a word I said just now. She didn't even respond to your lame-ass answer to her questions back at the Bludgeoned Badger." He held back a snicker at the name, since it really wasn't appropriate in the conversation.

Dean had no such reservations, and let loose with a loud snort of amusement. "We are totally making this a regular stop, Sammy. Whenever we get a job in the area, we'll stop in, swap a few tails about dad, have a beer or two, it'll be good."

"I thought you couldn't wait to get out of Roswell, Dean, what with you being kidnapped and tortured and all." Sam gave a lopsided grin.

"Psh, A.J. and Stuart totally trump some wacked-out junior demon. Besides, my bruises are almost healed already." With a grin as wide as his split lip would let him, Dean smirked at his brother, and then cranked up the radio, already set on the local classic rock station. AC/DC's Thunderstruck blasted from the speakers, but Sarai only shifted her position in the back seat, and didn't open her eyes. Rocking on, the Impala cruised down the roadway to the cemetery where the Winchesters planned to end their new friend's ghost problems in one swift salt-and-burn.


	22. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty:**  
**_South Park Cemetery_****_NM_**

After a brief stop for lunch, and a trip to the local library to do some research on the cemetery itself and to double check the facts of the case as given to them by A.J. and Stuart, they headed out to the last resting place of one Samuel R. Lewap.

"You know," Sam commented as they pulled into the driveway of the South Park Cemetery, "this place is right next door to the Roswell Industrial Air Center..."

Dean glanced at his brother incredulously. "Dude, we are not going to sneak in and look for pieces of an alien space-ship. They make parts and train military and civilians there, it's nothing secret."

As the car slowed down, Sarai became aware of their new surroundings, and sat up to observe them better. At the words "alien space-ship" the brothers' conversation had her full attention.

"We've already done the "alien" sightseeing part of this tour; can't you just find pleasure in the fact that this dude is buried in " South Park"?" At Sam's blank look, Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, I'm the one who's supposed to be out of touch with pop-culture. The cartoon? The really crude one? With Kenny? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Wearing an annoyed expression, Sam couldn't get out of the car fast enough when they finally pulled to a stop.

_//Sarai, remind me to ask Dean to tell me about "South Park" at a later date, it sounds like a prime example of the lowest common denominator in humor, and should make for a fascinating study._// R'kenoth asker her host as they disembarked. _I will_. "Now that we have arrived, would you please explain how visiting the place you bury your dead will help Stuart and A.J.?" Sarai asked out loud.

Dean leaned on the roof of the car, and addressed her directly as his brother got their supplies from the trunk. "Well, the thing about dealing with ghosts is that they can be unpredictable. A ghost is basically the spirit of someone who's died, but still has unfinished business-"

"Yes, Sam and I have talked of this. What course of action do we take now that we have arrived at this cemetery?" Sarai repeated her question.

"We're going to dig up the body and burn it." Dean replied after a moment of silence, as he formulated the best way to answer her abrupt question. "Grab a shovel." He turned in time to catch the shotgun his brother threw to him, and followed Sam up the slight incline to the grave marker. They had stopped at the funeral home on the way up and gotten a map, which Sam had been studying, so he knew exactly where to lead their little group.

Surprised by the order, Sarai didn't move for a moment, but then collected herself and grabbed a shovel which had been leaning against the side of the car after Sam had removed it from the trunk. Though she climbed the hill quickly, when she reached the grave, Dean had already begun to dig down into the ground. "It is daylight, aren't you worried about being caught desecrating sacred ground?" _R'kenoth, I thought the taur'i generally venerated their dead, and it is taboo to disturb the resting places of the deceased._ Sarai was confused by the apparent disregard of an ingrained cultural practice.

//_In extraordinary cases such as these, I believe that custom is circumvented in the name of protecting innocent lives._// The tok'ra rationalized, but she too couldn't help but glance around nervously to insure their actions went unobserved.

"Don't worry," Sam reassured the young woman, "we asked at the front, and there shouldn't be anyone around here today. If you're really worried you can always be our lookout, and keep watch."

Pausing in his digging, Dean glanced up at her. "Or you can help dig, and I'll keep an eye out." He suggested, being completely facetious.

"Alright. I have not experienced a tool precisely like a shovel, but I would like to try it out." R'kenoth had never done manual labor before, and though her planet was based in an agrarian system, Sarai was equally ignorant of the technique, but was more than willing to learn.

Sam and Dean stared at her, when it appeared that she hadn't been joking about wanting to take a turn digging. She stepped forward, waiting patiently to be instructed. The brothers exchanged astounded glances. "Hey, if she's willing…!"

The younger hunter shook his head at Dean's enthusiasm to shift the work-load onto an unsuspecting young woman, but he couldn't deny her at least a couple shovels full of dirt, so she'd feel like she contributed to this effort. "Fine."

After a quick tutorial from Dean on how to dig most efficiently, Sarai went to it with a will. The Winchesters expected her to get a few shovel-loads out, and then get tired. Behind her back, Dean bet Sam $5 she'd get to ten shovel-fulls before calling it quits. Sam bet less. "Come on, have some faith in her!" Dean chided his brother in a low voice. Enthusiasm counted for a lot when it came to this type of grunt labor, and Sarai had that in spades. "Dude, it's her first time with a shovel! Maybe 8, but not 10." Sam replied, certain that by the end of this episode, he'd have another $5 of his brother's money safe in his wallet.

To their astonishment, an hour later she was still going strong. Sam had tried to take his turn, but Sarai had insisted on continuing to dig for another foot. Dean was glorying in his victory, though completely amazed by Sarai's hidden well of strength. "Pay up." He demanded.

Sam ignored his brother's hand inches from his nose. "It doesn't count, she's way past ten!"

"You doubted she'd get even that far, I totally win this one!"

"I have done my share, I believe it is Sam's turn now." Sarai interrupted the argument to hand Sam the shovel. They looked back at the grave, now quite deep. "I think we're nearly there!" Though sweaty, Sarai didn't appear to be worn out, and Dean had to ask her: "I thought you said you hadn't used a shovel before? You've got a ton of muscle for your size!"

R'kenoth would've rolled her eyes had she been in control, but Sarai grinned, and couldn't help but preen a bit under the complements. "It is a very simple machine to master, and I am much stronger than I look!" _Thanks to you, R'kenoth,_ she silently added.

By this time, night was drawing on, and the natural light was fading, so Dean sent her back to the car for flashlights. On his instructions, she opened the trunk, and lifted the false bottom. As she propped open the compartment, she stared in awe at the numerous weapons, religious and superstitious paraphernalia. Sarai was impressed in spite of herself. _These taur'i take their self-appointed job very seriously._

//_Which, I suspect, is why they are still alive._// The tok'ra couldn't help but compare the arsenal in the Impala's trunk to the weapon's store at the SGC. In the brief tour of the base they had been given, Sarai had gotten a glimpse of a room which contained weapons to fight everything from Replicators to Unas, and that wasn't counting the many artifacts they were researching as potential tools to protect the humans of the galaxy.

Grabbing the flashlights, Sarai reminded herself that she needed to check in with the SGC personnel later this evening, and returned to the grave site.

It wasn't long before Sam's shovel hit wood, and it was Dean's turn to get dirty as he helped his brother break open the top of the coffin. Sarai and R'kenoth were intensely curious to observe the funerary customs of the taur'i, but all they could see as the peered into the grave they had just dug was a dirty wooden box with a splintered lid.

"I thought you had elaborate death rituals, here." Sarai asked them, as she helped Sam climb out of the hole. "Yet there appear to be no possessions buried for use in the afterlife, nor tokens to give to your deities."

Brushing off his clothes, Sam distractedly answered her question as he watched his brother pour salt and lighter fluid over the remains. "Um, well, like I said earlier, there are so many different religious and spiritual beliefs in this country, there are many different funeral customs as well. But generally, the deceased are just buried in nice clothes with maybe a watch or a rosary, nothing big."

//_I believe you are thinking of an earlier period of history, Sarai. Though their culture is still young, they do not perceive themselves to be very primitive, and have abandoned many of the older customs such as the funerary rights you mentioned._// Sarai nodded, what R'kenoth said made sense, and she had to admit to a preconceived notion based on her own experiences of humans elsewhere in the galaxy.

"Now for the fun part." Dean's grin as he climbed out of the grave quickly turned into a grimace as his injuries from his captivity made themselves felt. He hissed quietly in pain, but put on a brave face, and held up a packet of matches. "Time to burn, baby, burn."

Sarai reached for the matches, but Dean was suddenly whisked backwards by an unseen force, and the matchbook fell to the ground.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, and grabbed for the shotgun he had set aside while digging. The ghost of Samuel R. Lewap, in all his bloody glory, appeared in front of him, separating him from his gun.

Every bruise screaming anew, Dean raised himself groggily from the ground. "Crap. Sarai, look out!"

The spirit turned its attention to the girl who it blamed for its fate, and rushed towards her. With speed they wouldn't have believed if they didn't see it for themselves, the young woman stepped aside from the oncoming apparition at the last second, and dived for the weapon Sam was unable to reach. The ghost flickered into existence between her and Sam, and as she picked up the weapon R'kenoth had the presence of mind to scream "Duck!!" before she fired.

Well trained, Sam hit the ground instantly, and felt the breeze as a round of rock-salt dissipated the spirit and passed over his head. Unfortunately, not two seconds later, the spirit had re-manifested, angrier and stronger than before. Catching the tok'ra host off guard, the spirit flung her into a tree behind the headstone, and she lay at the base of the trunk, momentarily stunned.

Dean had managed to get his gun, by this time, but was barely managing to fend off the vengeful spirit as it apparently gained strength in its rage. "Sam, hurry up! This guy's been eating his Wheaties or something, he just won't quit!" His dad had trained him well, and each of Dean's shots connected. Unfortunately, he had a limited number of rounds. Before he knew what had happened, he'd run out of shells, and was unable to protect his brother. The ghost attacked Sam, who'd been about to light up the matches and end his existence permanently, throttling his victim on the ground mere feet away from where his own rotting remains lay. As Dean scrambled for the matches which were loose once again, a sudden bright flare of light came from the hole in which the remains of Lewap awaited a long over-due cremation.

The ghost backed away from Sam, and in an impressive visual display, burned up and disappeared.

"What the hell was that?" Exclaimed Dean, as he went to help his brother up.

"It did the job, did it not?" Sarai limped over to the brothers, casually hiding the small device in her palm.

Sam straightened up, rubbing his neck. Why did all the ghosts, monsters, and demons seem intent on choking him? Weren't there easier ways to kill him? Easier, less painful ways? Honestly, someday they were going to do some permanent damage to his larynx if they weren't careful. "What'd you do, Sarai?"

The young woman tried to look nonchalant as she leaned over the grave to watch the last of the lighter fluid consume the coffin, bones and all. "I saw that neither of you would get to the matches and light the fire in time to prevent harm, so I just used a device my people came up with to light the fire from afar."

"That's impossible." Dean stated flatly, exhausted and in pain from new injuries as well as old.

"As are ghosts." Sarai replied, and gathering the shovels and flashlights, led the way down to the Impala. "Since this is the second time I've saved your life, I believe it is in my rights to request to travel with you longer."

//_Sarai, do you think this wise?//_ Asked R'kenoth worriedly. Her host seemed intent on extending their travels with the Winchesters, despite her earlier apparent willingness to concede to their wishes and be dropped off with the Air Force the following day. _Reken, now that we've seen a ghost as well as a "demon," can you honestly _leave _at this moment? There is so much we can study here! Dean and Sam are very good at what they do, you've as much as admitted that yourself, we shall be as safe with them as we will fighting the goa'uld, if not safer! _R'kenoth had to admit Sarai made a persuasive argument. //_Let us hear what they have to say._// She counseled, finally.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances as the approached the car. Their silent communication lasted only seconds, but it seemed much longer to the young tok'ra. Finally Dean sighed. "Fine, but only until the end of the month. That way we get our kick-back, and you get your little adventure. But you're gonna have to follow our rules and obey orders." He fixed her with a stern look. "You mess around, you're gonna get all of us killed, understand?" _If we keep her around I can at least get a look at what she used to set Lewap on fire. That little trick would've been nice to have known about a lot earlier!_

Sarai shut the trunk, pleased with the heavy 'thunk' it made as she closed it firmly. "You betcha!" //_I believe Col. O'Neill uses that expression._// Commented R'kenoth, amused by her host's use of slang, as they once again took up their position in the back seat of Dean's car. _I think we are lucky we caught them at a good moment. If I had waited to state my request until we were back at the hotel, I doubt they would have conceded the point._ Sarai could not prevent a large grin from crossing her face.

Receiving the keys from Sarai, Dean hesitated momentarily, but then handed them on to Sam. "I think I'm gonna pass out now, go ahead and drive us back to the motel."  
"Will do." As he put the key in the ignition, Sam grinned at his brother. "Are you sure you don't want to check out the alien crash site first?"  
His eyes closed, Dean leaned back against the car door. "Say one more word and you'll be buried right here in this conveniently located cemetery."  
"Oh come on, we can't leave Roswell without at least seeing the sign!"  
"Just drive."

**The End**

** ...for Now!**

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A/N: There will be an epilogue to this story which sets up the continuing adventures, but hopefully there aren't too many loose ends at this point. If you are totally lost/confused/etc. please write a review and let me know! Thanks so much for your continuing support. 


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

Now that Sarai was to travel with them for another ten days or so, the Winchesters judged it best to forbear having a long conversation with A.J. and Stuart about John and Mary Winchester, but they did stop by the Bludgeoned Badger on their way out of town to reassure them the ghost wouldn't be a problem anymore, and say a proper goodbye.  
Sam made a point of thanking the men again for their help in locating Dean, but they insisted that it was the two of them who were indebted to Sam and Dean for taking care of their kitchen problem.  
"Nah, we were just lucky that linoleum you tore up went straight to the incinerator, otherwise it could've been pretty damn ugly." Dean commented in reply to their thanks. With a last enjoinder to come back and visit some time, as well as Stuart making them promise to take good care of Sarai, the black Chevy Impala pulled out onto the interstate highway and drove north.

One week later, after a brief encounter with a boggart trapped in an old sea chest from England, the Winchesters had to decide how they should spend the last days before Sarai was done traveling with them. No visit to the United States was complete without a trip to Las Vegas, NV, and Dean insisted that "it's called Sin City for a reason, there's bound to be something evil we can hunt," to stifle any protests.

"Maybe we'll see an alien spaceship being towed to Area 51." Sam commented, knowing his brother was exasperated with the alien theme by now. Dean ignored the comment and continued driving, but Sarai sat upright in the back seat. "What do you know of Area 51?" She asked, concerned for the secrecy of a program directly connected to that of Stargate Command.  
"It's a joke, Sarai. The military tests new equipment there." Sam assured their passenger, though in the back of his mind certain pieces of information were starting to form an unsettling picture of this odd young woman. True, she was not from America, so her ignorance of the alien lore of Area 51 could be excused, but she had sounded very concerned about it.

Dean had noticed it as well, but thus far his initial idea of her as a demon or shape-shifter had come to nothing, and he was out of ideas. He'd decided the best response was not to worry about it, beyond keeping an extra eye on her at all times.

Just before they crossed the border into Nevada, the Winchesters and Sarai stopped at a small diner. On Sarai's insistence, they were eating a sit-down lunch. They were preparing to leave when Sarai got call on her cell phone.  
When the small machine began buzzing in her pocket, she jumped, startling Sam and Dean, and causing her to nearly knock over her water. "Oh! I'd almost forgotten I brought this in with me!" She answered the device with a cautious, "Hello?" having always been on the sending end of phone calls, not the receiving thus far into her life as a taur'i.  
"Sarai, its Daniel Jackson. Something very big has come up, where are you?"  
"Almost to Las Vegas. What's happened, something to do with my people?"  
"Not exactly. This isn't a secure line. We'll have a team waiting for you at Area 51, get the Winchesters to drop you off there. Assure them they'll be paid." Daniel's voice was steady, but urgent, and Sarai quickly ended the call.

"It seems we will be going to Area 51 after all," R'kenoth stated as she stood up from the table. "My contact with the Air Force will meet us there."  
The brothers stayed seated for a moment longer, and then stood up as well after exchanging glances. "Sarai, I never thought about it before, but why is the Air Force handling your case? I didn't think they had much to do with cultural exchange programs." Sam inquired as they left the diner.  
R'kenoth shrugged. "My people are currently in conflict with a very powerful enemy, and I suppose they wanted to insure my safety." She was prepared to continue, but as they stepped out of the double doors of the restaurant, a brilliant white light suddenly engulfed everything.

"Sonovabitch!" Was Dean's immediate response, followed closely by Sam's own cry of "the hell?!" Both brothers were instantly on the defensive.  
"Sarai, where are you." Sam demanded, momentarily blinded by the white flash. He'd experienced the same kind of flash in the Air Force base during their initial capture, but it seemed somehow more familiar than just that…  
"We are here, Sam Winchester." Replied Sarai, but her voice was far deeper than Sam remembered, and seemed to have an unusual resonance to it.

As their eyes adapted from the sudden change in light, one thing became very clear. They were no longer standing in the parking lot of a diner just across the state line from Nevada. Somehow, they had been instantaneously transported to what appeared to be the control room of giant machine. No, not a machine, a vehicle, and one with a very large "windshield" giving a clear view of the universe stretched out all around them.

As the Winchesters looked around the bridge of what could only be a spaceship, they could hardly believe they weren't passed out in an alley somewhere. Despite the number of strange, and to most people inexplicable things they'd seen in their lifetimes, nothing had prepared them for _this_ reality. Demons and ghosts were one thing, but aliens…?  
Dean stared at Sarai, who was calmly standing by a huge window that overlooked the vastness of space. "You knew about this, didn't you?" He was distracted by the sight of the large planet over which the spaceship was hovering. "Holy- is that Earth?"

"Yes, Dean Winchester, that is indeed your planet."

"But not yours." Sam asserted, coming to stand by his brother. It wasn't a question. "Is this your ship?"

"No." Said a new voice. The Winchesters turned around, to see a small, stick-thin grey figure with an overlarge head and immense black eyes approach them slowly across the deck.

"I am Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet. Welcome to _The Jack O'Neill_."

"Dean," Sam said slowly, taking in the sight.  
"Don't say it Sammy, please don't say it."  
"We're not in Kansas anymore."

**To be continued…. **

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A/N: Here's the epilogue, as promised. Eventually I will write the sequal, but first I need to finish my other projects. (-cough Daniel's Daughter cough-) Happy New Year! 


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